Break my Suffering Bonds
by Aeary
Summary: He wants to sever the unwanted connection between them. He wants to provide the chance for freedom. But he does not want to be alone. . .and if he lets that thread break, loneliness is the sure fate waiting for him. SebaCiel, Post Season II.
1. Prologue: Reminisce

**Umm . . . yup. So here I am, yet again, dwindling my life away by adding more to my full schedule of fanfictions, original fictions, and an upcoming NaNoWriMo. But. I don't care, because I can't stop an imagination that says "You simply MUST write a long-term Kuro fic!" There's not enough of them around, and if you're anything like me, you LIKE a big long fanfiction to enjoy on a day of boredom. **

**About this particular Kuro fic: As I'm sure a lot of you are as well, I wasn't pleased at all with the ending of the second season. Instead of at LEAST giving us a happy ending where Ciel's all "Ooh! My darling Sebastian, we can now be together forever!" they had to suck it up with "Ha. Now you have to serve me for all of eternity. SUCK IT." Seriously. That was upsetting to the SebaCiel fangirl I am. This particular work of fiction will take place about two decades after that final departure in London. I don't want it to be centuries later or anything, because there are characters I still need and I'm kinda tired of seeing all those reincarnation fics out there (no offense to any of the writers doing those, because they're really quite enjoyable). Also, much to my chagrin, this will follow after the anime instead of the manga because of my undying need for Undertaker to be a Shinigami. **

**Rating: This will be rated M, which means, of course, that there will be plenty of language, gore, and lemons. I would call it shota, but since by now Ciel is . . . what, thirty-three? it could go either way. I'm not changing Ciel's appearance. He was thirteen when he became a demon, and thirteen he will stay. :) **

**There is no beta for this as of yet. If you're interested, please let me know in a note. I will look at some of your own works to see if you're qualified. **

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and all of the characters involved belong to one Toboso Yana, who was wonderful enough to bless us with the storyline and artwork that is "Black Butler". Who knows where we'd be without it. XDD**

**Let's get started!**

**.**

**Prologue: Reminiscence**

A stray drop of blood hung suspended at the edge of a porcelain chin.

Slowly, a finger lifted the drop from its temporary resting place and traced a crimson trail up to full, cherry-red lips. The fingertip, complete with its ebony nail, slid between those plump lips so as to be sucked on until the small appendage was no longer stained. Then the mouth opened, and a puff of air bubbled up from lungs and out into the stale, foul-smelling atmosphere.

In an alleyway somewhere in London, a predator was feasting upon its prey. The night had closed in some time ago, shrouding their crimes in utmost secrecy. Sounds that had formerly rent the air—screaming, thrashing, and then tearing and chewing—now fell way to an utter silence. No one would know, in the morning; the crows would have worshipped upon their newest feast before the sun rose for a new day.

Tragic.

The dark-haired boy straightened up from a crouched position, sharp scarlet irises returning to their normal respective shades. He glanced over at his companion, who stood dutifully waiting, burgundy eyes impassive. "I miss eating sweets," the boy muttered forlornly, turning away from the mess in the alleyway. "At least they didn't leave such a foul taste in my mouth."

"Then perhaps the young master would like me to prepare a snack upon returning—"

"No." Frowning, he tossed his head back to stare at the polluted night sky. "Sebastian, you know it's pointless. I was merely reminiscing."

"Of course, Young Master."

"Stop calling me that." The pale blue head turned to glare at the demon companion. "I'm not your "Young Master" anymore. I don't consider you my servant. You're my teacher, and my companion."

"As you wish . . . Ciel." Sebastian Michaelis bowed stiffly, eyes flashing red for just a moment before returning to a shade that could pass as human. "Though I cannot help but to be plagued by those words you issued to me upon our leaving the Phantomhive Manor. I was to be your servant for all of etern—"

"I don't want that. I shouldn't have said those things. It was wrong of me to try and dictate your wishes. You are a demon; you don't like being bound."

"You know this all too well," Sebastian chuckled.

A pair of eyes, one a deep cerulean blue and the other a pale lavender, skirted their way back to the mess of blood and limbs and hair on the ground behind him. "I feel dirty . . . doing this. Is it always so hard?"

"I was born a demon, so I was already calloused to the process. I am sure you will grow used to it in time." Sebastian stepped forward and held out a hand in a gesture of kindness . . . a trait he showed to no one but his beloved master. Ciel knew this . . . he knew how Sebastian cared for him like a child. In a way, he supposed he _was _Sebastian's son. From day one of being a demon, the black-haired butler had tended to every problem. Instead of doing the job for him, he had shown him the proper way to execute each action. Of all of them, eating had been the toughest. The boy had literally starved himself for nigh on a year before giving in due to pure starvation.

The smaller black-nailed hand stretched out to grasp the larger one tightly, accepting the offer. Even if the succulent soul taken from the dead wench's body sated his hunger, he had a tendency to feel nauseous afterwards. The thought of ending a person's life for _food _stirred inside of Ciel, right where his beating heart should have been.

"Sebastian," he sighed quietly, like he hadn't asked this question countless times before, "Is there truly no way a demon can be returned to a human?"

"What is lost can never be returned," the elder demon announced, just as softly. "You know the answer, Ciel. So why must you keep asking it?"

"Because I . . . I have to ask. I need a false pretense of hope."

Sebastian inclined his head in understanding. Ciel knew it was pointless to ask, again and again, but something compelled him to keep saying it. He didn't think Sebastian was lying; it was just that he was trying to find some way to console himself until he found a reason to like being in this form.

He didn't think he would ever find one.

"Were there no leads this time either?" Sebastian questioned, likely in an attempt to change the subject.

The boy-demon shook his head slowly, his free hand slowly sliding upwards to touch the skin just below his pale right eye. "She didn't have any information for us. That was the last lead we had. What should we do now? If we don't find a way to break the contract . . ."

"Why do you try so hard to dispel the contract?"

"Because you shouldn't be tied to someone as miserable as me for all of eternity." Burgundy met multicolored before the younger whipped his head forward and back to the cobbled street they were walking on. "You have your own . . . life, you could call it. You enjoy being a demon. You shouldn't have to deal with someone like me. You deserve your chance to be freed from me."

"My master is a kind one," Sebastian commented offhandedly.

"I was never kind enough. I feel . . . I never should have treated you like a mere slave under my rule. But I suppose that kindness stems from your own. I am grateful for you help, as much as I still don't want it."

"Your life would have been even more miserable without education," came the amiable reply. "You would have become a monster."

"I _am _a monster."

"A dignified one."

"Do you desire freedom again, Sebastian?" Ciel stared at him earnestly, no trace of bitterness on his face for just this once. "Do you want to leave me and go back to your former way of living?"

"Sometimes. You chain me down . . . my young master who constantly seeks protection even as an immortal. I am no longer carefree. However, at the same time, I enjoy my time with you. You are the only human that has interested me."

"Was."

"You have yet to forsake all the ways of humanity, dearest Ciel. You see . . . I feel a connection to you. The only meal I was unable to partake in, and I was looking most forward to a soul as tarnished as yours. I was thwarted of that meal, and while I bear a sharp grudge to our opponents for that, I would have missed your oddities. Quite simply, I do not wish to leave your side forever. We would meet again, perhaps, whether I was able to separate or not. The world is only so big, and we have an eternity to exist in it."

"Huh. I wouldn't want to stay with me. Though . . . I will miss you, once we break this contract."

"You are such an odd child."

"Did you not just say that is what you like about me?"

"It is. Ciel, do you feel alright? Your step is faltering."

"I feel sick," the child muttered with chagrin, sinking into a needy being once again . . . a babe. "I can't forget about the smell. And the taste . . . the taste won't go away. I want sweets, Sebastian. I want to be able to enjoy them."

Strong arms lifted the boy from the uneven ground and into the firm embrace of a warm chest. Ciel curled against that warmth; it seemed this was the only remaining place that was hot rather than cold. Eyelids fluttered down over multicolored eyes as the small head flopped onto the soft linen of Sebastian's thick jacket. As a human, perhaps he might have complained in this position. But he no longer had a reputation to uphold, and so he was not in the least bit embarrassed. In fact, he had been almost anticipating the feeling of being within his butler's hold.

"I'm so tired," he breathed out unhappily.

"Demons do not require sleep."

"But . . . I . . . Sebastian, _please_. Just a small rest. And then tomorrow we can search for a new lead." The head sags forward until a larger arm moves to support it. "At least when I'm sleeping I don't have to think about this," the soft whisper ensued.

"When will you learn to deal with it? There was nothing you could have done from the beginning . . . when the spider snared us in his web."

"I don't blame Claude. I don't blame any of them. Sebastian, _please_." The voice is groggy now, loss of control causing it to be higher and not nearly as commanding. Instead, the voice returns to that of a child.

"And what will you do once you return to wakefulness?" Sebastian mused, half to himself. "Will you merely wallow in your misery again?"

"I won't be content until the contract has been broken," Ciel replied defiantly. "Because then everything I did to gain revenge on myself will be over. I cannot keep you changed when I was unable to keep my end of the deal. Sebastian . . . I just want you to know . . . I would have been content, had you eaten my soul. I was ready to die."

"You may have, Young Master. But at that point in time, I would not have been satisfied. By then, your soul was _too _tarnished."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing; I am merely musing." Sebastian tightened his hold on the shivering child in his arms. "You may get some rest, Ciel. And tomorrow, as you insist, we shall search for a way to break the contract.

"I will do whatever it takes to turn you back into a commanding king."

**.**

**Prologue end. :D Remember, there is no beta for this so far, so please forgive the mistakes that I'm sure are hiding in there. **

**Please review and tell me whether you think this will be a good idea or not! Any feedback would be extremely helpful. **


	2. Chapter One: Difference

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the property of Toboso Yana**

**.**

**Break my Suffering Bonds**

**Chapter One: Difference**

**.**

Sunlight. It was unbearable these days. What was once a promise of a new morning, full of new surprises and peaceful familiarity, had now turned into the promise of nothing. There was nothing to look forward to once the sun decided to bless them with its light. Sunlight . . . it blinded the truth right out of peoples' eyes.

"Young Master, you have slept for long enough." The soft voice of the butler roused his master from the depths of rest, though he refused to move. He wanted to relish what little bit of time he had left before returning to his world of eternal darkness.

An annoyed sigh. "Ciel, get up. Have you already forgotten your plans for the day?"

The sharp sound of curtains being opened echoed through the too-large room, and the blinding sunlight filtered through everything . . . even Ciel's fiercely closed eyes. He moaned angrily, yanking his cover over his head unhappily. "Close them back," he complained unhappily.

"Not until you give up on the pretense of being asleep," Sebastian replied in a voice lilted with amusement.

This, at least, felt normal to Ciel. Even as a human, secretly he had enjoyed the attempts Sebastian made at getting him out of bed and ready for the day. They no longer went through the process of changing his clothes; in the two decades Ciel had existed in the world as a demon, he had by now learned to dress himself. But he still refused to get out of bed until Sebastian was there to prod him, and he continuously went to sleep every night just for that one semblance of regularity.

Today, however, was important, and he could not afford to play this morning. So with a soft moan, the boy threw the covers off of his nightshirt-clad body and sat up, blinking fiercely into the light from the window. "Please close the curtains," he complained. "I don't like the light coming in through the window."

"As you wish."

Ironically, the Phantomhive town house had been cleaned out as soon as Ciel's death was "official". Soma and Agni had packed up and moved into the manor along with the servants, and the town house had been left to collect dust in the middle of the street. The demons had been pleasantly surprised at this revelation, and without further ado moved in. Of course, that choice had not been without trials; all of Ciel's old supporters had come by at some point to visit that old house with tears in their eyes. Luckily Sebastian's powers—ones that Ciel still had yet to understand—could restore the new furniture to the old. No one had found out about them.

"Before you get dressed this morning, perhaps you might suggest any ideas you have for obtaining new leads?"

"I feel like we've checked every available option at this point . . . other than one." Ciel glanced up at his companion solemnly. "Sebastian . . . we have to go back. If there is _any _place that holds an opportunity for breaking this contract, it is where our friends and false family are. Do you understand?"

"Ciel . . . do you mean you are 'retracing your footsteps'?" Sebastian seemed . . . slightly shocked by this proclamation. It was something the boy had avoided for too many years now . . . something Ciel was certain that his butler had not expected him to encroach upon.

But Ciel knew . . . now was not the time to run from his past. If he wanted to permanently sever the contract between them, he would leave no stone unturned. Hat meant facing his fears.

"Yes," he replied firmly. "I want to go to the Phantomhive Manor."

"Very well." Sebastian bowed politely, though Ciel didn't miss the obviously averted eyes, nor the concerned frown. "Shall I prepare the carriage while you get dressed?"

"Sebastian."

"Young Master?"

"Don't look so uptight about this." Ciel crawled down from his bed, toes reaching for the carpeted floor for just a second before the whole of his foot touched. He walked forward until he stood just in front of his kneeling tutor. "I won't back down from this. We can make up an excuse as to why I am still here if we must. But someone over there _must _hold the key to unlocking this contract. I will do anything to grant you your freedom."

"You were never one for backing out of a fight," Sebastian chuckled in amusement as he rose to his feet. "Would you like to wear your traveling attire?"

"Whatever you choose will be fine. Afterwards you can prepare the carriage; I will be down once I have finished changing."

Sebastian slowly did as ordered before taking his leave, the door to the bedroom clicking shut behind him in a sound that was much too loud for the silence that had fallen.

Ciel sighed in frustration and plucked agitatedly at the clothes Sebastian had laid out on the bed. Black . . . it was always black. Did the older demon have to rub this humiliating position in harder? He longed to wear his trademark blue once more, just for old time's sake. Blue was safe. There was nothing particularly evil nor heavenly about it. It was a neutral tone in the otherwise segregated world of colors. Black, purple, red . . . they practically screamed with dark intentions. Yellow, white, pink . . . they promised happy times, a chance for salvation. Blue was happily in the middle . . . Ciel was crossing no boundaries by wearing it. And yet, Sebastian _had _to choose black over everything else. The boy very nearly threw the offending articles of clothing out the window . . .

But then, with a small frown, he slid on the ebony knee-shorts under his nightshirt. He was a demon; there was no turning back. He might as well just accept the consequences of that fact.

It was never going to change, after all.

**.**

"Why in the world did the Phantomhives build the manor _two hours _from London?" Ciel groaned, sinking down in the plush seat agitatedly. The carriage had been going full pelt for around an hour now, and the demon boy wasn't exactly the most patient person to ever grace the earth. Then again . . . if two hours felt that bad, then Ciel seriously wondered how he was going to deal with an eternity of time.

"Perhaps it was so that their children could learn to be patient," Sebastian chuckled.

"Oi."

"What are you planning on asking them once you see them?"

"I don't know." Ciel stared down at his hands for a moment before idly picking the dirt and grime that had collected beneath the offending fingernail. _Black nails are so annoying_, he thought to himself. Sure, he liked hygiene. He couldn't get through the day without a bath or two, and he changed his clothes every chance he got. But those infuriating black nails would never allow him to see what was underneath them. For all he knew, two decades' worth of dried blood could be hiding under there. It made it worse that he couldn't cut the things. He'd tried before, and they grew right back the very next day. It was a pain to work on them the same over and over again. Still, one would have thought that when demons were first created, their creator would have given some thought to cleanliness . . .

"You're avoiding the question."

"I guess . . . at this point I'm more worried about their reactions when they see me."

Burgundy eyes raked down the front of Ciel's form. "You mean the fact that they have all aged twenty years and you are still in the form of a thirteen-year-old child? I already told you, Young Master; you can alter your form so that you look older—"

"I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not, and I know I'm anything but mature."

"I think you're wrong." Sebastian slid forward in his seat across from the boy, black-clad elbows resting against similarly clothed knees. The ancient demon stared amiably at Ciel, his tone taking on that of a teacher once more. "Your appearance and your attitude directly after feed—ahem, eating, are very childlike, yes. However, the thoughts occupying your mind at this moment are quite adult. You are doing what is best . . . you are taking responsibility in order to achieve your goals. You are no longer relying on my help. At least, I am assuming this last bit, but . . ."

"No, you're right. I don't want your help. I only ask that you be there when I approach them."

"I would not dare leave you alone in the current state you are in."

Ciel sighed heavily and raised one of those filthy hands to pull back the curtain shielding the outside world from view. As he stared at the droll greenery flying past them, he said quietly, "They don't know about you being a demon, nor do I want them to know. I simply have to find a way to ask them about breaking a contract without letting them know what exactly I am asking about. If they don't know anything, I suppose we could also ask Elizabeth."

"If they find out that we are demons we will have to kill them," Sebastian reminded.

"I know. Because no one can no of our existence in the world." Ciel glanced over at his butler curiously. "When was the last time we saw Grell Sutcliffe?"

"The Death God? I believe it was about fifteen years ago. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if he knew anything about it. The only problem would be getting in touch with him. He is a Death God, after all. I am sure he would have come across something in his lifetime."

"If that is the case, then why not ask Undertaker?"

"For two obvious reasons," Ciel snorted indignantly. His hand fell away from the curtain, shrouding the carriage in darkness once more. "He has moved; no one has been able to find him. His shop was turned into a flower service. Also . . . even if we did find him, there is no way I'd be able to tell a joke funny—or dirty—enough for his ears."

"Very good points, Young Master."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"I apologize. I have grown so used to calling you in a formal title that it is now a habit. It will take some time to addressing you in an informal fashion."

"Whatever." Ciel frowned and tugged his eye patch down further. He hated the bloody patch. After they had left the manor, he had grown used to leaving it off. They hid from human society, only emerging in the dead of night to eat in order to feed. However, his old servants still thought that there was no eye under the patch, and so for respect's sake, he put it back on. It was itchy, and not being able to see out of it like he normally did was going to drive him crazy. Already he had bumped into Sebastian twice and nearly tripped over the step of the carriage. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the day without appearing clumsier than he really was.

"You're nervous," Sebastian observed.

"Of course I'm nervous. I haven't seen them in . . . a long time. I don't know what they're going to look like."

"Or are you afraid of what their reactions will be to your presence?"

"Things would be so much easier if they believed in ghosts," Ciel grumbled halfheartedly.

"You could always tell them you were a love-child."

The child scoffed in deranged amusement. "I wonder how Elizabeth would take that."

"Do you miss them?"

The question came so suddenly that Ciel had to freeze and blink absentmindedly at his butler for a good five minutes. He'd never really . . . thought about it. While they were there, he'd thought them idiotic imbeciles that couldn't do anything right. All they did was tear up his home, scream in his ear, or demand hugs upon hugs from him. And yet, Ciel knew that the main reason they turned into such embarrassing idiots was because . . . they were trying to make him happy. Ciel only ever frowned and yelled at them; he must have just seemed like a kid who didn't know what to do with himself. In a way, they _had _made him happier. Somehow seeing all of their smiling faces had helped him make it through every day without truly falling into the depths of despair.

Yes, he missed them.

"I . . ."

"I must admit, I had grown used to their imperfections by the time we left. They were quite loyal to you." Sebastian leaned forward to stare directly into the boy's eyes, his normal cocky smirk replaced with something akin to a pure need for conversation. "They were always so determined to cheer you up."

"It never worked."

"That is a lie, Ciel."

He cocked his head. "How so?"

"There were several instances where your servants smiled even in the darkest of times. You had no idea that they were doing this, but instead of being annoyed, you were merely confused. It was as though you did not care if they were being more idiotic than usual. They cared for you, Ciel. I don't believe I ever told you this, but when I informed Prince Soma that you had lost your memory, he wanted to give you curry bread in hopes that it would help you."

"So _that's _why they gave me that bread after Alois tried to kill you." Ciel snorted. "They really were lunatics. But hasn't Prince Soma returned to India? By now he must have had the chance to take the throne."

"I believe he rejected the offer."

"For what? There is nothing in London for him now."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow as the cocky smirk returned. "I believe a primal part of them all still thinks that you are somewhere in this world. That is one consolation that may just make thing easier for you once we get there."

"And Lau?"

"Lau is still here as well; he has even stopped dealing in opium."

"All this for a demon?"

"They do not know you are a demon."

"Even so, the thought is rather humorous." Ciel slowly flopped sideways in his seat until his head pressed up against the soft velvet. One hand came up to settle beside his face, and he blinked up at Sebastian curiously. "You aren't usually so talkative."

"You seek a distraction," the elder demon explained. "I am merely trying to provide you with one until we arrive at our destination. Not only that, but rarely do you give an ample opportunity to talk in such an open manner. I am taking advantage of the situation."

"How much longer until we get there?"

"About half an hour."

"Ugh. I hate long carriage rides."

"You always did. Although . . . I do believe this is the first time you have ever publicly stated that fact."

"Hah. I don't have much dignity to uphold anymore, so there is no reason to hide it."

"Demons do not have the right to be dignified."

"So you keep reminding me." Ciel raised his hand to his forehead. "My head hurts. How can you tell me demons don't get headaches when I have proof?"

"You are just worried about the coming reunion," Sebastian chuckled.

"Headaches are caused by worry and stress. My head hurts, Sebastian."

"Would it please the Young Master if I said you could rest until we arrive at our destination?"

"It would please me if you stopped calling me Young Master."

"Am I not your loyal servant?"

"Sebastian, whether willingly or not, I threw away my title, my position, and my business. I have no right to own a servant." The younger demon ran his hand through his ragged mop of hair. he was a mess, both physically and mentally. He knew he was no longer privileged enough to hold such a status. He hadn't been in the first place.

Before he knew what was happening, his body was upright, and his seat was a lot warmer than it had been just a second before. It took him a minute to realize that he was sitting—quite comfortably, in fact—on his butler's lap. Such a bold display was . . .

"Sebast—"

"I promised you, upon forming our contract, that I would be with you until the end as your servant. You can strip your title, and you can throw away your source of income . . . but to me, you will always be my Young Master."

"Until the contract is over?"

"Do you want me to leave you as soon as the contract is broken?" Long, slender fingers ran through Ciel's hair, untangling the silky strands until it looked more presentable.

"I've told you before. I want you to be free to make your own decisions. I don't want you to be tied to me for eternity." Unconsciously Ciel found himself leaning into that soothing hand motion until he was resting his head against his tutor's chest.

"But what will you do once I leave?" Sebastian's voice was soothing, lulling him into an unneeded rest. "You cannot take care of yourself. You may never be able to, because of the way you were raised."

"I have you to teach me until then, don't I?"

"Yes. But there is the selfish thought that perhaps I do not want you to be able to fend for yourself."

"You want me to suffer?" Ciel mumbled indignantly.

"Where once I would desire to see you suffer for my pleasure, Young Master, now I do not. It is simply that I may not wish for you to free me from your hold."

"I want you to leave me when we break the contract, Sebastian." Ciel's cold voice cut out sharply against the soft tones they had just been conversing in.

"Young Master . . ."

"You've followed me around for twenty-three years like one of those dogs you so loathe." He turned around, bright blue eye burning into Sebastian's darker ones. "I think you've forgotten how to live the way you're used to. What is the longest time for a contract you have made?"

"Yours is the longest. And the longest one after that . . . lasted a week." The butler laughed wryly, his chest rattling against Ciel's back. Again, he was filled with the odd sensation that he didn't mind this situation.

"Exactly," the boy scoffed anyway. "You've grown too used to living like this. I don't think you remember how you lived before I chained you to me. You seemed . . . omnipotent when I called for you on that day. Now . . . you're almost like a mother hen. Sebastian, you need your freedom back. I know I keep saying that, but it's just because I want you to regain it that badly. I . . ."

"Shh. I understand, Young Master." Sebastian leaned down until his mouth floated somewhere next to the boy demon's ear. "May I ask if this is an order?"

"Sebastian!" Ciel pushed his body away from his butler's and onto the floor of the carriage. He didn't really care much about the sudden lack of comfort . . . because he was _livid_ with anger at that question. "I am trying to _end _this contract, not do something to bind it tighter to us! Once it is gone, orders don't matter. I'm not going to force you away. I'm trying to give you the initiative to run from this prison. And here you are trying to provoke me!"

"Forgive me, Young Master." Black-clad arms reached down to place the child back into that warm lap. "You are misinterpreting my real intentions. If you would listen?"

Ciel growled softly in annoyance, but he remained silent otherwise. He doubted that whatever the butler wanted to say would take away from his anger. Still, he felt compelled to listen.

"I was going to say that even were it an order, I would disobey it once the contract is broken. I will leave, yes. That I can assure you. But if I am displeased with my life after the end of the contract, I will return to you. Even if I do decide to leave for good, I could never truly leave you. You are incapable of surviving on your own."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Perhaps not, since I am technically calling you helpless." Sebastian smiled and rested one gloved hand on Ciel's head. "Young Master, there are still twenty minutes until we arrive at the manor. You should rest. Your temper will have calmed down by then."

"Twenty minutes?" Ciel's hands jerked into tight fists. "That . . . suddenly doesn't sound like a very long time." Not enough time. Maybe he wasn't ready to face them after all. He really didn't know what to ask them, and he was terribly frightened of how they would act when they saw him. More than anything, he didn't want them to be scared of him. He just wanted . . .

"Ciel."

The moment Sebastian said his name he was calm, and he sagged back against that warm chest with a deep sigh, hands unclenching. Stupid demon, making him feel better like this. It was so wrong, how talented this man was.

"You want to see them again, don't you? You miss them. Do not think of why we are here. Think of it as a reunion."

"I really don't act like I'm thirty-three," Ciel muttered unhappily. "I still feel better when an adult tries to calm me down. Why?"

"Because when you became a demon your learning capacity stopped."

"What?"

"It's not an insult," Sebastian chuckled. "It just means you'll always have the mind of a child. You'll be a very smart child in a couple centuries, but in the end, you will seek company from elders just like you are now. You shouldn't think badly of it."

"Since when have I ever sought the company of elders?"

"Since right now."

Ciel sighed in annoyance and bumped the back of his head against the rock-hard chest behind him. It wasn't fair . . . more and more he found reasons to hate being what he was. So far there was absolutely _nothing _to admire about the life of a demon. And if he really did have to live like this for all of eternity . . .

Well, he'd probably make a point to go find that demon sword.

"You're thinking of committing suicide again, Young Master."

Caught.

"Sh-shut up."

"Is that an order?" Sebastian chuckled once more.

"Rrngh!"

**.**

The carriage turned into the manor's front path before Ciel knew it, but there was no longer worry welling up in his stomach. Instead, he peered out of the small window at his former home, longing shining in that one visible eye. He had to admit, he was slightly shocked; he had expected the place to be in shambles by now. Instead, it looked impeccably clean . . . the many windows were clear and smudge-free, the grass was properly trimmed, and the garden—or what they could see of it—was well-groomed.

"At least we know _someone _is taking good care of the place," he grumbled. "Ah . . . someone's coming out."

He didn't recognize them at first; all he saw was a mop of dirty blonde hair that could have belonged to any number of people. There were hard lines in their faced that symbolized someone entering their middle years of life. However, two things alerted Ciel to this person's identity: a large straw hat slung haphazardly against their back and two brightly-colored berets that held the bangs out of their face.

"Oh hell," Ciel breathed. "That's Finny!"

"My, he certainly has changed," Sebastian commented. "Well, we have graciously been granted an audience. Shall I speak first?"

Talking? Oh, great. That was right; Ciel _did _have to talk. Wordlessly, he nodded; perhaps once Sebastian began to talk, it would be a bit easier for him to join in.

The carriage door opened then, and Ciel immediately flung himself against the near wall, behind the open door so that he wouldn't be seen. He didn't know why he'd done it; it was just an instinct he couldn't control. This was only making it worse . . . now, not only was he not talking, but according to Finny, he was never there in the first place.

"Um . . ." Finny started. Just as Ciel had thought, his voice was different as well. It was deeper . . . still higher than Bard's voice, but it now retained a small sense of authority. "I do hope you haven't come out here for nothing. You see, no one lives here except for the servants and—Mr. Sebastian!" A sharp squeal emerged that a grown man should _not _have the capacity for, and then Ciel heard a soft thump. Braving his own self conscience, the demon boy leaned forward to stare through the crack created by the door hinges and the wall of the carriage . . . and then raised a hand to his mouth to stifle his giggle. Sebastian was on the ground, his body covered by that of Finnian's. One of Sebastian's burgundy eyes flashed straight up to where Ciel was watching, with a glare that promised revenge at a later time.

And there, _there _was Finny, the boy that would sob if anything went wrong or right . . . just in a different body. "Oh, Mr. Sebastian, we thought you'd never show back up! After the Young Master left . . . Mr. Sebastian, is it true that he died? Prince Soma told us after you were gone. What happened?"

There! There was the perfect chance to jump in, to say that he was not, in fact, dead . . . but his body refused to move. Fear clenched in his chest, rooting him to the seat rather than pushing him forward. He couldn't do it . . . even if it was Finny,

"He died," Sebastian said smugly, that eye flickering back up to Ciel's. Obviously, he wasn't going to say something himself. It was up to Ciel to announce his presence.

"Oh . . ." Finny stopped blindly hugging the butler and sat back up, staring at the visitor sadly. Ciel was trying to stand, he really was, but when he saw the expression on his former gardener's face, he could only stop and stare. "It's really true . . . how?"

Sebastian got back to his feet and proceeded to dust off his black attire with one gloved hand. "The Young Master asked me not to speak about the manner in which he died; all you need to know is that he is no longer of this world. I will say that the Trancy household had something to do with it."

Ciel grimaced at the wording. _No longer of this world . . . _it had a double meaning, and Finny would take it to mean the wrong thing, as Sebastian had likely planned. Now he was even deeper into this mess . . .

"You still respect him, after all this time?" Finny questioned admirably. "He was so young . . . our master. Mr. Sebastian, were you with him when he died?"

"Unfortunately, no. I was a bit too late."

And that time, the demon child could not contain a soft laugh of irony. It wasn't Sebastian's fault—not at all—but he couldn't help but to blame his butler for it. If the elder demon hadn't stuck him in a box, none of it would have turned out so horribly. Though . . . yes, it was his fault for getting _out _of the box.

"Mr. Sebastian, what are you doing here?" Finny finally stood up; through the crack, Ciel could only see part of him, but now he realized that the gardener's height hadn't changed much. "It's kind of weird for you to show up. Especially after so much time. Are you unemployed?"

"I am . . . employed part-time."

Ooh. Ciel would kill him. As soon as he was done being a chicken.

"I am here because the Young Master has something to do. He seeks a visit. I apologize for the sudden intrusion. If you are not free, we can return another time."

"Uh . . . no, we're free, but . . . Mr. Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you still . . . look so young? You look the same as you did when you left." Finny cocked his head like he always used to, and Ciel was once again reassured that personalities did not change based on appearances.

Sebastian chuckled fondly, and though Ciel only had a sideways view of his butler's face, he could easily tell that his trademark grin was in place. "Why, dear Finny, I merely use an anti-aging cream on my face to reduce the number of wrinkles. It wouldn't do for the Young Master to have a butler who appears old, would it?"

And Ciel snickered, his hand flying back to his mouth just a bit too late to keep the sound from escaping. Finny's head jerked over to the carriage in surprise. Sebastian, on the other hand, smiled wider.

_Caught . . . damn. _

"Mr. Sebastian . . . why did that sound like . . ."

"Please excuse me while I help the Young Master down from the carriage," came the smooth reply.

Sebastian's head popped back into the carriage, one hand extended towards Ciel. "Have you thought up a reasonable excuse yet?"

"How could I?" he hissed back angrily. "Sebastian, how could you . . . you just . . . ugh. How am I going to explain this?" The hand was ignored as Ciel curled back into the corner of his seat, much too scared to even _think _about coming face to face with his . . . not so frightening gardener.

"You were the one who came." The burgundy eyes flickered red, and although Ciel was a demon too, the sight of that evil crimson was still scarier than anything else Sebastian could throw at him. He made a soft sound of surprise in the back of his throat and reluctantly took the outstretched hand.

The demeanor change was immediate. No matter how frightened Ciel was, there was no way he would appear like a puny little kid in front of his former gardener. The second his hand touched Sebastian's his back was straight, his visible eye was cold with an arrogance he rarely expressed anymore, and his mouth was pressed into a thin but firm line. Confidence . . . that was the key to this whole thing. The confidence to fix things even when they were so messed up that it seemed impossible. Ciel was good at this, after all. Making things look trifling when they were really too important to be ignored.

And so without another word of complaint he rose to his feet and marched to the door of the carriage, allowing Sebastian to help him down. He locked eyes with Finny the moment he came into view, even though he had to cock his head up once he came off of the bottom step and onto the ground. He wouldn't be the first to say something; he would leave it up to the gardener, and he would think up something on the spot when the need came. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sebastian's small smile.

Surely he had known how this would turn out.

"Y-Young Master!" Finnian stuttered in shock. "You're . . . but Mr. Sebastian said that . . . how . . ."

"He said that I died," Ciel replied coldly. "I did die."

"Th-then . . . how? How are you . . .?"

"Finnian, you are an adult. Do try to fix that God-awful stutter." Ciel released his hand from Sebastian's and set down the cane he had thought to bring. With that one move, he once again truly became Earl Ciel Phantomhive. And it felt _good. _

He knew exactly what to do.

"I have died," he continued, now sure of what to say. He extended his hand towards Finny, palm up to hide the black fingernails. "But this body is real. The best thing for you would be to not ask questions. All I will tell you is that I am back to right something I did wrong while I was still living."

There. That was the truth, wasn't it? He _did _do something wrong to Sebastian while he was still "living". He had broken his half of the contract and kept him as a slave. And he was trying to fix that. It was completely correct. He just didn't have to tell Finny that he was going to interpret it the wrong way. Nor did he care. The fact was, he said the truth, and they could take it any way they wanted to.

"So . . ." Finny started, once again cocking his head in confusion. "Once you fix what you did wrong, you'll go back to being dead?"

"You could say that," Ciel allowed, though somehow he felt like that answer would eventually come back to bite him.

"Well, I think it's great. Young Master, your soul must be pure to want to come back and fix your sins." Finny giggled just like he always had, squeezing his eyes shut in happiness.

Both Ciel and Sebastian's heads jerked up at that, and Ciel felt his eye widen to epic proportions. It was ironic, that Finny had no idea what he had just said. It was wrong . . . all wrong. Did his servants truly believe that his soul had been pure? It had been tainted. Tainted beyond recognition, into something only a demon would want.

"My soul . . . did it exist, it would have been anything but pure," he whispered to himself.

"Well then," Sebastian announced. "Mr. Finnian, are you going to leave the Young Master to catch cold outside or will you allow him to enter?"

"Yes! It's still your manor, after all. We're merely the caretakers. Um . . . how long will you be saying?"

"Just for the day."

Ciel bit his lip as he followed behind Finny, getting increasingly nervous. Explaining it to Finny was one thing; he had always been simpleminded and accepted everything that was thrown at him. Apparently Soma and Agni were here too, and they would be no problem; Soma was as thickheaded as an ass, and Agni went with whatever his Prince did. Bard was a little smarter, and would very possibly question Ciel's proclamation. And Meirin . . . well, he didn't know what to think about her.

He could only hope Elizabeth had been properly married and was nowhere in sight.

"As long as you stick to your story, it will be fine," Sebastian whispered in his ear. "That was very quick thinking on your part. I am quite proud of you."

"It wasn't that bad," he mused in reply. "I don't need encouragement from you."

"Good. Return to the Young Master I am so fond of."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

But Finny interrupted before he could get the answer out of Sebastian. The gardener threw the front doors open with a happy, "Welcome back, Young Master!" and the moment was lost.

The manor was exactly as Ciel remembered it. Everything was pristine and polished, from the marble tiling of the floor to the sparkling crystal chandelier. The stairwell up to the second floor was just as extravagant as he remembered it. And—just for a moment—Ciel felt an ache where his heart should have been. This was his home . . . no matter how many times he tried to run away, he knew he would always come back to it. it was that precious to him.

Wordlessly he handed his overcoat to his butler, his one open eye roving around the room appreciatively. Sebastian, it seemed, had the same thought in mind as Ciel, for merely a second later he asked, "Who has been taking care of the manor? Surely you haven't been, knowing you."

"Mr. Sebastian, we've grown up a little bit. We take care of it together. Even Lau and Ranmao help."

"Oh? That _is _a surprise."

"Finny turned around with yet another beaming smile. "Young Master, your study and your bedroom are still unused, should you need to spend the night for some reason. Your clothes are still in the dresser as well. After we heard of your death, we couldn't get rid of anything. We go in and clean every day, but that's it."

"Such unnecessary actions," Ciel laughed. "You should not do such things for a child that died unhappy. I merely wished for you to move on without me. I am grateful, however."

"But we could never do that, Young Master! Not when you had given us everything. You and Mr. Sebastian . . . you took us in and made us human again. We were nothing but heartless monsters. We can't just forget about the way you turned our lives around!"

Human . . . and monster. Why did everything seem to revolve around a being's species? Every time the gardener said something of that sort, Ciel felt another little piece of him die inside. It was like he _knew_.

"Finny!" someone hollered from the stairs. It was a voice now riddled with age, but at the same time, it was one that Ciel would recognize no matter where it was. "Finny, did you get the package at the door? It should have been my latest shipment of opium . . ."

"The hell?" Ciel hollered angrily. "Who said you could send drugs to my manor? Damn bastard druggie . . ."

"Well," Sebastian snickered, just as loudly, "that certainly solves the problem of announcing yourself, Young Master."

"Oh?" that same voice called back. "My, my, Earl. Would that be you, brought back from the dead? Ah, the irony! One once lost to the darkness has returned to put their restless soul into a soothing sleep. You must have forced yourself to return to this beloved place you call home."

Ciel inwardly grimaced. Somehow that man always managed to know exactly what was going on . . .

"So?" Lau asked happily from the top of the stairwell. "What brings the pretentious Earl Phantomhive back to his home?"

"Lau!"

"Meirin!" another voice called from the direction of the kitchen. "Bring me an aspirin; I'm hallucinating again. I could swear I just heard the Young Master's voice."

"Ehh? You too?"

"What? You heard it too? That means . . ."

"We're both hallucinating?"

"No, you idiot! Master Ciel must be here!"

Enter Bard and Meirin.

"Ciiieellll!" A purple mop came flying from the stairs, and before the Earl knew what was coming for him, he got knocked backwards into Sebastian. There was no a sobbing, blubbering Indian attached to him. "Ciel, I _knew _you weren't dead! The power of friendship brought you back to me!"

"Mr. Sebastian!" Agni called happily from Lau's side.

"Is this everyone?" Ciel asked wryly as he shoved Soma off of him.

"Lady Elizabeth is stopping by later, but this is everyone in the manor right now," Finny laughed.

"Eh?" Soma muttered. Ciel turned to find the Indian Prince examining him thoroughly. "Ciel, why don't you look any older than before? And why are you dressed like you just came from a funeral?"

"Is the parlor open for use?" the demon child asked. He passed that infuriating cane to Sebastian, using the chance to turn away from the _much _older crowd standing in front of him. Never before had he felt quite so . . . young.

"Just cleaned it up myself," Bard announced happily.

"Then we can converse in there. I have some explaining to do . . . I am sure that even if you _had _expected me to return, you weren't expecting me to look like this."

"I can make some tea," Agni offered.

"Ah . . ." Ciel hesitated. He didn't exactly know how to say that he didn't want any tea without admitting that he _couldn't _drink tea. So the best thing would be to accept the tea and down it as best as he could . . . even if it would taste disgusting. He nodded stiffly.

"Shall I help you?" Sebastian offered.

"No need," Agni dismissed. "I have had twenty years of practice; though my tea is comparably worse than yours, it is by no means horrible. It will only take me but a moment. Shall I prepare snacks as well?"

"That's not necessary," Ciel quickly dismissed. If he saw a single piece of cake or even a _tart_, he might just go crazy.

"Well, then." Agni bowed towards him with a smile, and Ciel realized that his hair was more gray than white now. "I shall prepare the tea, and then I will be back to listen to your explanation, Master Ciel."

"Very well."

God willing this was going to go down well . . .

**.**

"I see," Soma mused. Ciel raised an eyebrow in confusion; wasn't he acting just a bit too overly dramatic? "So your parents died and left you all alone, and you cursed them? Then your innocent soul felt bad after death and you wanted to come back and apologize to them somehow. Ciel, that's so sweet of you!"

"That's not what I said at all!"

"But you're being so vague! Why can't you tell us exactly what you came back for?"

"Because!" Ciel glared over at the Prince in annoyance and shook his head. "You don't need to delve into things that do not concern you. All you need to know is the reason I'm back."

"I won't question it," Meirin announced. "Whatever the Young Master wishes, I'll go along with it. I'm still your servant. It doesn't matter how old I am."

"Thank you, Meirin." He sat back in his chair and took a tentative sip of his tea, fighting to keep from spitting it right back out. It didn't want to go down his throat, that was for sure. It was Jackson's Earl Gray . . . one of his favorites. The fact that he couldn't swallow it without wanting to vomit it right back up upset him. He forced that one tiny sip down and then placed the teacup back on the table in front of him, resolute to not pick it back up again.

Surprisingly enough, everyone _did _seem to accept the story Ciel had told them. They didn't mind that it wasn't complete, that he had hidden almost everything behind one lame excuse. Obviously they didn't assume that he hadn't been dead in the first place. His appearance was enough to make anyone doubt the ways of the human world. Sebastian seemed to be a bit surprised as well; he must not have expected everything to go this well. But it was clear that Ciel's servants were more loyal to him than he ever would have imagined.

"Lau," he said calmly, "Why haven't you gone back to China? Surely your business would have prospered better there?"

"Oh, but Earl," the Asian man replied calmly, "playing games with you is simply too much fun. I had the feeling that our playtime was not quite over yet."

"Is that so? What a perceptive mind you have, Mr. Lau."

"The Young Master looks as though he would like to take a walk around his manor," Sebastian said quietly. Ciel jerked his head back towards the butler in confusion, only to see him wink and glance pointedly towards the tea. Sebastian was trying to gain him a way to get rid of the disgusting beverage.

"Ah, yes," Ciel quickly agreed, rising to his feet and taking the tea with him. "I would like to see how well you have been taking care of the manor. Please excuse me for awhile."

"Master Ciel, your tea—"

"It's not finished; I'll drink it as I walk. Thank you for the tea, Agni. Sebastian, are you coming along?"

The demon rose to his feet and bowed expertly towards the audience in the parlor. "You should go back to what you were formerly doing before we interrupted. Please do not mind us; we will be able to take care of ourselves."

"If you need anything, just ask!" Finny called after them happily.

Ciel heard the door shut behind him, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. Really, it was too much work to keep up an expression like that when he hadn't practiced it in such a long time. He glanced down at the tea in his cup and nearly blanched when he got a whiff of it. "Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I ever made you deal with this."

"You can't handle it because you are still a fledgling. You will be for a century or so. After awhile you get accustomed to the scent of human food." A gloved hand reached down and plucked the teacup from his grasp. Sebastian tilted the cup upwards and drained the entire thing in one gulp before returning it to Ciel.

"The taste too?" Ciel asked hopefully.

"In a sense. You do not need the sustenance anymore as compared to souls, so your sweets would be comparable to a food you never particularly cared for but ate anyway. Is there anywhere particular you would like to go?"

"My room." Ciel's eye flickered around in the hallway one last time before he stepped forward and away from the parlor. "Why did they take that explanation so calmly? I know not all of them believe it."

"There is nothing not to believe," Sebastian replied. "You told the truth; you only left the important details out. You _are _back to fix something . . . though I would not have necessarily called it _fixing_. From the first moment, you believed the contract to be right. You are merely releasing me from a contract that you broke."

"You could put it that way."

"And so, when were you planning on asking about a way to do that?"

"I'm making sure they still trust me." Ciel's hand rose to the eye patch covering his half of the contract. "I won't get any information out of them if they think I'm lying to them. As of right now, I believe they are still doubting my story. If I show them that I am telling the truth, then it will be easier to question them."

"The Young Master has been thinking about this. Are you really so determined?"

"Do you desire freedom?"

"Of course. Every demon does."

"Then I am determined to see this through." Ciel glanced up at the butler for a moment, hoping that Sebastian could see just how serious about this he was. It seemed that he was still doubted. But this, at least, was something he knew he could do. Even if it was impossible, he would find a way to do it.

Because he owed this much to a filthy demon.

The small Earl had one foot on the stairway when the front door swung open without warning. He froze nervously, his eye flickering over to look at the guest that had just burst in uninvited. What he saw was enough to make both he and his butler speechless. Because there, standing in the doorway, staring incredulously at them, was . . .

"L-Lizzy!" Ciel stuttered.

**.**

**Because as much as I hate Lizzy, I can't kick her out of the story line. ^^; **

**This is . . . a lot longer than I intended it to be, and on top of that, this is setting the bar for future chapters. So . . . um . . . I hope you like long chapters? **

**I felt like everyone was sooo OOC when I was writing this. But then, I wanted to change their personalities a bit, because everyone changes with time. Also, yes, the prologue's style and the style of the rest of the chapters will be just a bit different. **

**Thank you for the feedback on the prologue; I really appreciate it! I try to reply to all reviews I get, so if you have any questions or problems regarding the fic, please let me know! **

**This story probably won't be updated again until after NaNo (I'm already going super speed on that, so I don't really have time for writing fanfics on top of everything else). However . . . I wouldn't be surprised if I **_**did **_**update during November, knowing me. XDD **

**Thank you for reading! **

**~Shadow**


	3. Chapter Two: Questioning

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the sole property of Toboso Yana.**

**.**

**Break my Suffering Bonds**

**Chapter Two: Questioning**

**.**

Elizabeth Middleford had changed . . . that much was obvious. She was a tall woman now, with a narrow but shapely face and an exceedingly slender build. Her hair no longer sat in ridiculously flamboyant pigtails; now it nicely framed her face, and small ringlets flowed down to the center of her back. She was dressed in an elegant white dress with green around the sleeves and bodice.

But the expression of shock on her face ruined it all. It was clear that her attitude, at least, hadn't changed since twenty years ago. Which . . . probably wasn't a good thing.

So much for avoiding her.

"C-Ciel," she stuttered disbelievingly, her gloved hands slipping on the pot she was carrying. Luckily, before its contents could splatter all over the floor, Sebastian—as usual—gracefully caught the container and returned it to its owner. Lizzy hardly seemed to notice, as her eyes remained trained on her cousin and childhood fiancé.

Again, Ciel's nerves seemed to freeze when pushed into the face of danger, and he raised himself to his full height, plastering a fake smile all over his face. "Hello, Elizabeth."

"You're alive," she stated bluntly. Her voice, though still high-pitched, was nowhere near as squeaky and annoying as the demon child remembered it to be.

"I'm not alive," he replied, just as bluntly. "Do you truly believe that someone can still look as young as I after twenty years have passed between us?"

"But you're _here_. It shouldn't be possible . . . not if you were dead like everyone told me . . ."

"You can ask the others, if you would like." Ciel turned around, preparing to make his way up the stairs. "I've already explained the situation to them, and I would rather not repeat myself."

"Wait, Ciel!" There was a sharp clatter, and then he halted when a dainty hand grabbed a hold of his shirt sleeve. He turned around slowly to face the blonde woman. She was breathing frantically, her hand shaking against his arm. "I don't . . . I don't care about that right now. All I care about is that you're _here_, talking to me . . . so much has changed, you know."

"I know."

"I wanted to marry you. Truly I did." Her hand fell from his arm slowly to hang lifelessly at her side. "When they said you had died, I was heartbroken. But then . . . then I thought maybe you didn't love me, not that way. I'm happy now, Ciel. I'm married, and I have children of my own. But I never forgot about you! For you to be standing here . . . I . . ."

Ciel shook his head slowly, inwardly swearing that if those emerald eyes sprouted tears, he would go running. "Lizzy, you're right," he said calmly, using her childhood nickname to help her relax. "You're right that I had no desire to marry you. Every time I thought of how annoyingly bubbly you were, I couldn't imagine living the rest of my life with you. But . . . Lizzy, I did love you. I still do. You're my dearest cousin. I never wanted it to be any different."

"I understand that now." And she beamed a brilliant smile then, her demeanor changing drastically. "Ciel, will you still be here in a couple days? You should meet my children. You'll be their uncle, won't you?"

"I'll see what I can do, Elizabeth."

"No, silly! Elizabeth is what my husband calls me. I'll always be Lizzy to you, so call me that, okay?" Ciel found himself pressed up against a well-endowed bosom as a purely Lizzy-made squeal grated in his ears. "Were you always this tiny? You're so cute~!"

"Um . . ."

"I should go and let the others know I'm here. I brought them some dinner too, because goodness knows poor Agni shouldn't have to cook for them all the time. You'll stay, right? And have evening meal with us?"

"I'm afraid not," he said hurriedly; the tea was bad enough. If he had to go through food too he might as well just die all over again. "We merely came to let everyone know we were here. We don't have much time today."

"As long as you come back it'll be fine. Goodbye, Ciel!" She whirled around and graciously accepted the pot that Sebastian was somehow holding for her. "Oh, Mr. Sebastian . . . you still look so young! How do you do it?"

"Anti-aging cream, of course, Milady," came the stoic reply, and again Ciel had to smother his laughter at the ridiculous notion.

"Me too! Oh, it works so wonderfully, doesn't it? Goodbye to you too, Mr. Sebastian!"

"The worst part is that they all believe it," the demon child snorted once Sebastian joined him again. "Sebastian, she's going to question their explanation. And then everything will have been ruined."

"Nonsense." The butler glanced down curiously, eyes roving Ciel's face almost angrily. "With the display she just put on, there is perhaps no possible way Lady Elizabeth will oppose their explanation. The fact remains that she is happy for your presence and nothing more. She never did like to dab into your private life, a feat I find most admirable on her part considering her constant wish to see you happy."

They reached the top of the first set of stairs, and Ciel paused to yank his eyes away from Sebastian's before the staring could get any more ridiculous. "The only reason she doesn't is because I asked her not to when we first met after the manor burned. You remember that, do you not? But . . . I hope you're right. I really would like to leave them without any incidents. Killing them isn't an option. It can't be."

"As long as they do not find out who we really are."

"Somehow that seems harder than it was a few hours ago." Ciel glanced back down fleetingly at the front entrance before continuing his climb upstairs.

**.**

His room, as Finny had promised, remained untouched. Not even a speck of dust resided on the fine wooden dresser. Ciel relaxed at this sight, feeling lighter than he'd ever felt upon turning into a demon. That bed, still adorned with white sheets and cover . . . it had been his safe haven. It was the place where he had dreamed of better things . . . like if his parents had never been murdered, or if he had just died that fateful day Sebastian had been called upon. That bed was one of the only places where he had felt _safe _around Sebastian. The demon had always seemed so kind when Ciel asked him to stay through those lonesome nights.

This bed, Ciel realized, held precious memories.

"They have taken good care of your room," Sebastian commented. Ciel turned his head to watch the other demon go through the dresser. There were colors in there . . . colors other than this dreadful, toneless shade he was currently wearing.

"Take the clothes back with us," he murmured. "I tire of wearing black all the time."

"As you wish."

Slowly, Ciel lowered himself onto the bed, smirking as he pointlessly tried to touch the floor with the tips of his toes. The covers had a slightly musty smell that came from not being used for so long, but he could forgive that and blame it on his good sense of smell. He let his body fall sideways until his head hit the pillow . . . the one he never could sleep without. So old now, but still just as comfortable.

"The Young Master liked this bed, did he not?" Sebastian mused, coming to stand on the other side of the four-poster. He was speaking in past tense, but not unkindly.

"I still do," Ciel sighed, nuzzling his nose into the soft pillow. "I only have fond memories of it."

"Would you like the bed transported back to the townhouse, then?"

"No. It belongs in the manor. But the pillow can come back with us. It always did make the trip."

"Because the Young Master could never sleep unless the pillow was with him. Why do you still entertain the notion of sleeping every night? Your body does not need it."

"Habit. Besides . . . sleeping lets me forget everything that has happened."

"You are sleeping away your eternity."

"Do you know how redundant that sounds?" Ciel sat up slowly and pulled the pillow into his chest. Hugging it tightly, he continued. "Sebastian, I know you tell me to find something to enjoy so I won't be miserable. But there's nothing . . . nothing that would make me happy. I used to say I wasn't happy with existing at all. But now I would give anything to go back to this." Slowly he gestured at the room around them. "You may find it ridiculous, but I do feel better to know that you're beside me. However, it . . . it makes it worse at the same time, because I know the only reason you're still here is because you're forced to be."

"The Young Master is still such a child," Sebastian chuckled. The demon butler reached forward and loosened Ciel's death grip on the pillow before any damage could be done. "Perhaps your reasoning is wrong. Perhaps I wish to stay at your side regardless of the contract."

"That's a ridiculous notion," Ciel scoffed, burying his face into the soft pillowcase. "No one likes a miserable child."

The older demon didn't answer to that, and instead straightened out to examine the room again. Ciel watched dully, his eye only half open and trailing after Sebastian's every move. He was tired again; it seemed that each time his butler spoke kindly to him, all he wanted to do was sleep about it, forget about it . . . ignore it, because he didn't deserve it.

Now that he thought about it, he sounded even more pitiful than before.

"Is there anywhere else you would like to go?" Sebastian questioned eventually, turning from his examination of the dart board on the bedside table.

"Not particularly," he murmured. "Although . . . you did say that this manor was rebuilt completely as it had been before the fire, right?" At the butler's nod, he continued. "Do you suppose there could be any hints in my parents' room? They were killed by supernatural beings . . . it makes me wonder if perhaps they were involved with . . . our . . . world at all. They had to have a reason for being targeted by a fallen angel."

"As usual, your way of thinking allows for every detail to be noticed. Shall we look? You ordered the door to be locked at your arrival back then, but I yet have that key."

"Why did you keep it for so long?"

"I had a feeling you would need it at some point in time." Sebastian bowed stiffly, holding out his hand to reveal the key.

The pillow fell back onto the bed as Ciel reluctantly accepted the small object. "We'll come back to get the clothes and the pillow after we're done. Let's go."

Ciel's room was, and always had been, a mere two doors down from his parents'. He used to be scared of the dark, before Sebastian came along. At least twice a week, he would run crying to his mother or father, begging to crawl into bed with them. He felt _safe _in that room. The darkness could go scare some other child, because squashed in between his parents' warm bodies he was protected. An innocent, typical child, yes, but he missed moments like those. He couldn't rightly feel safe cuddled next to _Sebastian_, for instance.

But now, there was nothing in that room. It was false hope, to think of what things might have been. The memory of his father, or his mother, or even of himself no longer existed. That room . . . it was merely a spare bed with the belongings of dead relatives.

So why was his hand shaking as he pushed the key into the lock?

The door came unlocked with a soft click, but Ciel didn't move to open it. He wasn't frightened, not exactly . . . it was more like a feeling of foreboding settling deep within his chest. He knew, without a doubt, that there was something beyond this door that could bring an end to this meaningless contract. Something in him would change forever once he found out what it was. And . . . he knew he would be alone again.

Sebastian leaned forward and took a hold of the door handle on his own. Ciel shook himself out of his trance and glanced up at his butler curiously. "You weren't going to do it," the older demon told him calmly. "You need a push."

Well, that was probably true . . . who knew how long he would stand there before actually opening the door? He nodded slowly and stepped aside, opening the way for Sebastian.

"Just remember, Ciel," Sebastian said quietly. "This is not really your parents' room. It is a replica. Nothing you did while you were with them remains. They are only memories."

"That's not the problem," he replied in a whisper.

"Then what is it?"

He shook his head and gestured for the door to be opened. How could he explain to this demon that he didn't want to be alone? It was ironic, it went against the very nature of their kind; demons were meant to be creatures without any form of attachment. They were meant to roam for their prey by themselves, and not with someone to share the glory with. But yet, Ciel could not bear the thought of being alone like that. Not in the way it seemed Sebastian would enjoy it. He needed someone with him, all the time. And whenever he broke the contract with his butler, then he would be left. By himself. In a world he knew nothing about.

But it had to happen sometime.

The door swung open with an atrocious creak; not even the hinges had been oiled since the room was locked. Just for a second, Ciel felt like he were about to walk into a horror fest . . . but no horror could be worse than seeing your own parents burn to death, and so he brushed the thought off just as quickly as it had come up. He followed Sebastian into the room slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on his feet rather than on the room's interior. It smelled horrible . . . musty and moldy, like any second now the roof was going to collapse in on this mistake of a room. This bolstered his confidence just a bit, because it didn't smell anything like his parents did. It was an effect of this thought that caused him to look up, ready to find what it was they were searching for.

Everything was fake.

He had known that from the start, and yet, seeing all of the objects sitting in their respectful places let him know for certain that this _was_, in fact, a replica. There was no life in any of these . . . _things_. If they were to find any hints in this room, it would be a copy. They could never regain the original.

He made his way over to the bedside table and lifted a small, framed photo. The dust was so thick on top of the glass that he had to wipe it off with the handkerchief Sebastian had wisely tucked into his shirt pocket. The photo was taken when he was three years old, and it was in his parents' room, to suit the mood of the photographer. They were standing beside the bed, Vincent prim and proper, but with a cheerful smile on his face, and Rachel, holding Ciel in her arms and looking much more informal than her husband. He was smiling, a bright look in his eyes . . . he was happy. It wasn't hard to see even if the photo wasn't in color.

He sighed and placed the photo back onto the table. That side of him was lost forever, without a doubt. He shouldn't have to dig up old wounds like that.

Ciel proceeded to ruffle through all of the items in the room, not feeling in the least bit guilty. Perhaps, if these really had been his parents' things, he might have. But it made it easier to know that the items were all fakes. Nothing here was really _theirs._ It just sat to replace everything that had been lost in the fire.

"I was quite surprised," Sebastian noted as they searched, "To find that your parents slept in the same room. Is it not custom to sleep in separate rooms on a regular basis?"

"They did it for me," Ciel admitted as he pushed shut a drawer full of clothes. "Because they knew I liked to sleep in between them. Of course the other nobles had no idea. It was a private matter."

"Ah, so Ciel Phantomhive likes to cuddle?"

"Shut up," he snapped, yanking open the next drawer down. That was a thing of the past, anyway. It wasn't like there was anyone to cuddle with anymore. Hell, his body didn't even need to sleep in the first place. That old sentiment wasn't even possible anymore, even if he _did _like and want it.

They searched for the better part of an hour and came up with nothing. There wasn't a single object, document, or piece of clothing that could lead them in the right direction. All of Ciel's trepidations, fears . . . they had apparently been for nothing. Either it hadn't been replicated, or it had never been there in the first place.

Ciel growled in frustration and flopped down on the right side of the bed, a heavy cloud of dust flying up and into his nose. "There's nothing here," he complained before sneezing violently.

"It was only an idea anyway, Young Ma—Ciel," Sebastian said quietly. Had Ciel been paying attention, he might have noticed the faint relief shining in his butler's wine-colored eyes. The way it was, Ciel merely laughed and lowered his head.

"Perhaps, but I . . . I really thought that something would be here. I had a strong feeling that a hint would show itself in this room. Aargh, it's so annoying!"

"Please do try to reign in your temper. It is not very befitting of you."

"Being a _demon _is not very befitting of me." Angrily, Ciel snatched the portrait from the bedside table once again. He blazed a scalding glare down at his smiling, slightly chubby face. No worries, no real problems in life . . . _oh_, how he wished he could return to that point in time once more. He could have grown up _normally_ . . . well, as normal as one would have been as the Queen's Watchdog.

"You have been looking at that photo for some time now." Sebastian stepped forward, though his eyes were trained on the current Ciel's face rather than the child's old one. "Does it have sentimental value?"

"Not really," Ciel replied distractedly. "We had many photos taken of our family. This is merely one out of hundreds. It's just . . . everything looks so simple here. We look like a normal family. But it's been so long I hardly remember what it feels like to be loved . . . like that."

"You mean a parent's sort of love?"

"Yes . . . yes, exactly. But it is worthless to imagine such things anymore. It will never happen."

"Has Ciel ever thought that perhaps he will fall in love . . . in a romantic sense?" Sebastian asked innocently. "Parental love is not needed as much when you find someone who is even closer to your heart than those who raised you."

"Love? Sebastian, don't be ridiculous. I am a _demon_."

"So you keep vehemently stating. What is so wrong with that?"

"It is not every day one falls in love. I may have the brain of a child, but even I know this. And furthermore, the chances of falling in love with one of my own kind are practically impossible, seeing as how Claude and his . . . accomplices are the only other demons I have encountered. And to love a human . . . it must be forbidden. Even if I were to fall in love with a human, they would grow old and die right before my eyes. Is that not a torture in itself?"

"I fell in love with a human," Sebastian commented. "It was torturous, yes, but in the end, it turned out fine."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He glanced up from his inspection of his father's frozen face to stare at the older demon in confusion.

"You will learn in due time, I think." Sebastian turned away. "Since we have found nothing in here, shall we leave? It is a two-hour trip back into London, after all."

Reluctantly, Ciel moved to tear his gaze away from the photo . . . only to freeze and jerk his head back down again. For a second, he had seen something in that happy atmosphere that didn't seem right. But when he stared at it again, there was nothing out of the ordinary . . .

He frowned and moved the photo from side to side, trying to see what had made him pause. But there was nothing, nothing . . . there! When he held the photo a certain way, so that it hit the dim light filtering in through the curtained windows, he could see a mark that was on the inside of the frame . . . part of the picture. "Sebastian!" he hissed frantically. "Look at this!"

The butler was by his side in an instant, staring down at the mark on the photo along with him. There . . . it was all the proof they needed that his parents had, indeed, been wrapped up in something . . . otherworldly.

There, lit up only because of the sun's direct rays, was a pentacle.

"This isn't an angel's mark," Ciel announced, though it was pretty obvious. "But an angel is the one that killed them. I don't get it."

"It can't be that the angel had a contract with a demon," Sebastian mused, plucking the photo from Ciel's nerveless fingers to look for himself. "Unless . . . our angel was fallen. Could that have been its sin?"

"There was no mark of a contract on the angel's body."

"We didn't really look that close, if you recall. Or, perhaps . . . the angel found a way to break the contract between the time it killed your parents to the time we found it. Shall we take this with us?" The demon glanced up at the wall where the pentacle would have been situated, but he frowned when, at least to Ciel's eyes, he saw nothing. "I suppose something of this sort would not have been replicated in the rebuilding of the manor. It is too hard to see. But we do know that it was supposed to be in that spot."

"If it wasn't replicated, then how did they know to put that in the photo?" Ciel asked softly.

"Because that photo is the original. It was one of the few things salvaged from the ruins. Look closely; you can see burns on the edges of the paper."

Ciel sighed and pulled his body away from the bed. "We'll take it with us. But it doesn't really lead us anywhere, does it? All it does is open up more questions. I'm extremely confused right now, Sebastian."

"Shall I call it quite a feat that I am shocked as well?" Sebastian carefully tucked the frame away inside his jacket pocket. "What do you suppose the next step should be, then, Ciel?"

"I don't know at all," the child-demon admitted unhappily. "I am not well informed on how to go around getting information about the otherworldly beings, even if I am one myself. You should tutor me better, Sebastian. I'm going to be laughed at for not knowing much about what I am."

"I apologize. I will try to fill you in on some things from now on."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"One," he responded curtly.

"So spit it out!" Ciel demanded, stomping out of the room behind the older demon.

"Certainly you remember the job of the Death Gods? They are to watch the cinematic record of every person that dies to determine whether they go to heaven or hell."

"I know that." The key turned in the lock, effectively shutting away the room from the rest of the manor once more. "What does that have to do with this, though?"

Sebastian smirked, leaning down to tap Ciel's nose with one long, gloved finger. "Humans aren't the only ones with cinematic records. Demons, angels . . . even the Death Gods have their own record. Because all of us can die, no matter what we are. Therefore . . ."

Ciel had the pieces together before Sebastian had finished the sentence. "Therefore, if the angel made a contract with someone, it would be in the book. And . . . that includes all of the details about my parents' murder. How can we get a hold of the angel's book?"

At this, Sebastian sighed and frowned down at Ciel. "That will be the problem. We have to get the book from one of the Death Gods. And we have to get it from someone who can be trusted. Therefore, someone like Grelle would get in trouble for taking it from the shelves, so we cannot rely on him. The only real chance we have in getting the book is through Undertaker."

"But we haven't been able to find Undertaker!" Ciel, back in his own room at that point, snatched the pillow from the bed and squeezed it tightly to his chest. "All that remains of his shop has been turned into a flower stand. He's gone virtually missing. How are we supposed to find him?"

"Perhaps he stopped at the manor at some point in time?" Sebastian opened a packing trunk and began to move clothes from the dresser. "We should ask the servants. If anyone can lead us in the direction of Undertaker, they certainly can."

"I suppose we shall have to stay for a bit longer, then."

"While I am packing your clothes, you could go down and question them," Sebastian suggested.

"By myself?"

"Surely the Young Master knows the way around his own manor."

"That's not what I meant!" Ciel angrily retorted. "I mean . . . what if they ask questions I can't answer? I could very well give us away."

"If they ask a question such as that, merely inform them that you are not obliged to answer. Don't worry, Ciel. I won't be much longer here. Tell them you wish to visit Undertaker and would like to know where he resides. And do leave the pillow here. I will place it in the carriage."

The former Earl groaned in frustration but did as he was told, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the kitchen, awkwardly listening to the argument on the other side of the door. It was nostalgic to hear something so normal again, after all this time. He did miss his former life with his servants, even if they had annoyed him to no end . . .

"Mr. Bard! You may _not _use that flamethrower on the stew Lady Elizabeth provided for us!"

"And why not? The pot's cold; all I'm doing is heating it up so we can eat it faster!"

"You'll destroy it!"

. . . Scratch that. They still annoyed him.

Ciel almost wanted to knock, but he harshly reminded himself that he was _still _the master of his manor and did not need to do such a petty thing. He pushed the door open swiftly before he could change his mind, walking in between the two quarreling men. Bard and Agni stared at him in shock, and belatedly Ciel realized that he had never come to the kitchen before . . . much less without his butler.

"Young Master!" Bard quickly yelped, shoving the flamethrower in his hand behind is back. "What are you—I mean, is there something you needed?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Ciel admitted distractedly, his eye lazily trailing over to the pot on the stove. "I don't think Lizzy would appreciate her meal being put to waste. Do put the weapon away, Bard. The stove will heat it just fine."

"O-of course, Young Master!" The chef opened a cabinet and swiftly pushed the flamethrower inside. Ciel smirked when he glimpsed several other hazardous weapons lurking in that particular cabinet.

"I was wondering," the child demon stated, "if perchance either of you knew where the Undertaker was residing. I have been meaning to pay him a visit, but . . . unfortunately his shop seems to no longer exist."

"Undertaker?" Agni questioned.

"Oh, you know him," Bard laughed. "Creepy guy, silver hair, always seems to be laughing . . . visited not too long ago, he did."

"So he's still around?" Ciel asked hopefully.

"Oh yeah. Don't know where he lives, though. Never asked him. Meirin might know. Undertaker seems to like talking to her. She makes him laugh all the time."

"Where is Meirin at the moment?"

"I believe she's straightening up the parlor and talking to Lady Elizabeth," Agni calmly supplied.

"Lizzy?" Ciel grimaced unhappily but nodded his thanks. "Bard."

"Young Master?"

"Don't you dare get that flamethrower out after I leave."

Ciel smirked with the satisfaction of hearing Bard say, "He ain't changed a bit, has he?" just before the kitchen door swung closed.

By the time he reached the parlor Sebastian had joined him once again, and he had to admit he felt a bit more relaxed than he did when talking to Bard. He practically floated into the parlor, sending a polite smile in Lizzy's direction before sitting down again. Meirin was looking as clumsy as usual, and even Sebastian emitted a quiet chuckle when she realized they had come in and had whirled around so fast she tripped over the couch.

"Oh, Ciel!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "So you decided to stay for dinner after all?"

"No, I'm afraid not; I merely wanted to ask Meirin a question."

"M-me?" The woman practically fell into a chair, staring at Ciel like he was a mafia boss and not a thirteen-year-old (to her eyes) kid.

"Relax, it's nothing damaging." He placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned against his hand tiredly. "I talked to Bard just a moment ago, and he said that Undertaker tends to talk to you quite a bit. I was hoping you knew where he lived? I would like to visit him as well."

"Ah, that. I hate that man," she grumped. "He's always laughing at me. I don't see how I'm so funny!"

Sebastian coughed.

"Meirin, would you please get to the question?" Ciel asked, hiding a smirk of his own.

"Oh, yes, of course! I asked him where he was living before, but he never told me, Young Master. But . . . that strange red-headed man knows. His name was . . . Grelle, I think."

"Grelle?" Ciel grimaced, and Sebastian visibly paled. It was safe to say that neither of them liked him very much, and they had been looking forward to never meeting the man again. It would save a _lot _of blood and tears. _But, _Ciel thought unhappily, _if it can't be helped . . . _"And how would Grelle know?"

"Why, he says he sees Undertaker all the time, on account of some scary eyes or other." The maid straightened herself in the chair with a beet red blush and shook her head. "He's a right strange man, Young Master. He comes over because he keeps telling us that Mr. Sebastian will be back, and he wants to see him. He's quite smitten with you, Mr. Sebastian."

Sebastian shuddered. "That is not something you need to point out, Meirin. I'm well aware of what Mr. Sutcliffe thinks of me."

"The question now, Meirin, is where exactly Grelle is living at this point." Ciel lowered his arm and straightened his back; the answer to this one was bound to be just as vague as the last.

However . . .

"Oh, that's an easy one! He's living in that flower shop . . . you know, the one that used to be Undertaker's? He runs the place."

"And that," Ciel sighed, "Would explain why all the flowers on display were _red_." He craned his head back to stare at Sebastian. "I suppose we shall have to check in with Mr. Sutcliffe, then. What do you think, Sebastian?"

"As much as I loathe the idea, Young Master, if you wish to visit the Undertaker then that is what we should do."

"Yes, of course. Thank you very much for the information, Meirin." He moved to stand . . . only to be forced back down in the chair by a very flustered Elizabeth. He blinked up at her in surprise. "What . . ."

"I simply _must _insist that you stay for dinner, Ciel!" she stated. "You'll be riding back into London for a good two hours; you're sure to be hungry."

"I can't, Lizzy," he calmly replied, standing once more. "I might not have said this, but I don't think I have much time to figure things out. I cannot stand to waste any time, even if it is something I would rather be doing. I appreciate your offer, but I can't tarry any longer."

"But . . . you'll come to see my children, won't you? I'm staying in London as well."

"Can you bring them by the townhouse within the next couple days? I will be glad to see them, Lizzy." It was with chagrin that he said this; he didn't _really _want to meet them. He just considered it an obligation . . . something to do to make her happy, just like all of the other times.

"Will tomorrow be fine, then?" she questioned excitedly.

"Sometime in the afternoon should be all right. For now, I am afraid we must go. Come, Sebastian."

The second he stepped out of the manor, he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt too young in there, like he'd been frozen in time . . . and he was, really. But it was odd to see them all look so old, and he didn't want to see it again. He didn't want to watch them grow old.

Not to mention, he _really _hadn't wanted to meet Elizabeth.

"You certainly wasted no time in leaving," Sebastian said while Ciel climbed into the carriage. The driver had been near the stables to occupy himself and now came dashing back with a flustered expression on his face. Ciel noted that Sebastian gave the man a disgusted glare before climbing in after him . . . that probably meant there would be one less carriage driver on the streets tomorrow.

"I didn't want to spend more time than necessary, after all," he replied vaguely. "Besides, they were beginning to smell good."

The butler chuckled at this statement. "Oh? Is your appetite beginning to grow? You just ate last night, after all."

"Don't be ridiculous. I eat in moderation. But I can't help the fact that they smell like food to me now. It was rather awkward." Ciel frowned. "Did I smell like that to you?"

"Oh, no." Sebastian grinned, and Ciel could not suppress a disgusted glance as the demon exposed his fangs. "You smelled a hundred times better. Like the finest sweet smelled to your nose. You were the one soul out of millions that would stand out to any demon . . . I can guarantee that I was extremely proud to be able to claim you as mine."

"I suppose you were pretty upset, then, that you never got it."

"I managed just a taste before Claude ruined everything," Sebastian sighed wistfully. "But, I must say . . . even that one taste was quite enough for a demon such as myself to last for years. Now I am merely content that I was able to taste you at all."

"I see. Will . . . will there ever be someone like that for me?" The carriage jerked forward without warning, but Ciel's eye never once moved away from Sebastian's own.

"You are not yet ready to form contracts of your own. However, I am certain that someday you will come across a soul such as that. To obtain a taste of such a treasure . . . surely you, of all people, will be able to manage it, Ciel."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Merely that only demons with such . . . beautiful souls in past lives will grow to claim souls of a similar kind."

"Are you implying that your soul was once like mine?" Ciel raised an eyebrow curiously.

"You think far too little of me, Ciel. I was, after all, born a demon."

"So you have no soul at all."

"I did not say that either." Sebastian raised a finger to his cheek, presenting Ciel with a perfect image of someone trying to think. "How should I put this? Every being has a soul when they come into being. But a demon's soul and a human's soul are two different things. Humans are prone to every emotion, the good and the bad . . . everything has an equal potential. You can either turn out good or bad in the end. A demon is not given that choice. We come into being with a soul that focuses more on the bad things. We are still able to feel emotions like love, and happiness. But hate, and lust, and greed are all at the forefront of our soul."

"So, my soul . . ."

"Your soul is the same as it was before, because you were originally a human. You will not be subjected to an excess amount of hate, because you were not hateful before."

"Mm . . ." Ciel straightened, raising his hand to stare once again at those filthy black nails. "So . . . it's the same as before. Does that mean . . ."

"Ciel," Sebastian scoffed, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. "Eating your soul would be like you as a human eating Elizabeth. It's cannibalism. Even the idea is disgusting to me." His eyes landed on Ciel's, and then before the boy realized it, his eye patch had been removed and now dangled from the elder demon's hand. "Besides," he chuckled softly. "At this stage, I couldn't eat your soul. It is far too precious to me to be wasted in such a way."

"Precious?" The word sounded foreign on Ciel's tongue, because truly, the word had only ever applied to him when his parents were around. If he were to describe his soul, he supposed he would use the word _pitiful, _or _despicable, _or _ignorant_. None of those words were positive, and the word precious . . . it topped the positive scale. For Sebastian's sake, though, he said nothing more. He would keep thoughts like those to himself.

Sebastian fell silent after that, though his eyes never once left Ciel's form. Even as the boy demon turned his face to the window, he felt that bright red gaze on him. But he was used to it by now . . . used to being watched by him. Sebastian always had kept an eye on him like this, anyway.

Ciel took the pillow into his arms again, insanely grateful that Sebastian had remembered to put it in the carriage. The two hour ride back into London seemed too long once again, and since he didn't particularly want to think of what they were going to do next, he decidedly flopped over sideways on the seat and cradled the pillow against his chest. Slowly he allowed his eyes to flutter closed, completely breaking off contact from Sebastian's still-watching eyes.

"You're going to sleep, then?" the butler asked calmly.

"Mm," Ciel halfheartedly replied.

"I will wake you up once we reach London. Would you like to visit the flower shop today or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he sighed finally. "In the morning, before Elizabeth arrives. I don't want to deal with anything else today."

"Ah, I did forget. You are normally grumpy the day after you feed. Very well. I will let you sleep until we reach the town house."

"Mm," Ciel murmured once more, and then he was sinking into the blissful world of sleep.

**.**

One thing Ciel had definitely _not _been planning on doing was hunting in the middle of the night . . . for the second time in two days. And yet, here he was in the middle of London's empty street, standing beside a distinctly _happy-_looking Sebastian. Needless to say, he was not in a very good mood . . . though he had to admit that he was a tad bit hungry.

"Why," he demanded calmly, "are we doing this _now_?"

"Because you are yet a fledgling," Sebastian slowly explained. "You should know by now that if you haven't eaten in a few days, controlling your natural tendencies—such as your eyesight and your emotions—will be extremely hard. You don't want to flash a red eye at Elizabeth or her children, do you?"

"But I just ate last night—"

"We are just being safe, Ciel. If we don't hide your true nature, we would have to kill both Elizabeth and her children."

". . . Oh." He averted his gaze after that, staring down the empty street in frustration. It was a routine, now, and one that he didn't like. They were to stand in the middle of the street until some poor soul made the mistake of walking outside. Normally that person came from the commoner bar, and to be perfectly honest, Ciel had no qualms about killing a drunken whore. But every now and then, someone completely innocent stepped out from a nearby store, or perhaps even their home, and they spared no one save children. The second the person was in the street, it was up to one of them to seduce the victim into coming with them . . . and then they would eat.

Ciel hadn't properly learned to extract the soul from the body quite yet, and so he had the macabre job of eating the heart . . . the only way to get to the soul otherwise. Sebastian had tried teaching him on several occasions, but with the process involved mind games and concentration, Ciel found that he wasn't particularly good at it. When there was a bloody corpse sitting a few inches from his face, the only thing he could concentrate on was the blood . . . and the tantalizing scent of his new meal.

"It's cold," Ciel muttered, pulling his coat tighter to himself.

Sebastian frowned down at him in confusion. "Cold? But demons don't . . ."

"Well, maybe it's different if the demon was once a human," the boy sighed in exasperation. "It's cold; I'm not making it up."

"You _are _in a bad mood. Worse than usual."

"And you're amused by that, aren't you?" he snarled, glaring up at the smirking butler. "Can't you just forget about this? It's ridiculous to wait out here. There may not be someone for hours."

"Then we shall simply have to wait for hours. Do you truly wish for Lady Elizabeth to find out you're a demon?"

"No, but—"

"Then deal with it."

He growled again, this time in anger. Sebastian may have been right, but that didn't mean Ciel had to like it. Infuriating . . . that was the word he had recently tacked onto his former butler. And there was simply nothing he could do about it.

A door down the street opened, and Ciel tensed, hardly prepared to see the face of his next meal. However, the person that stepped out onto the street was barely more than a ten-year-old boy, and so he relaxed with a soft sigh. That person, at least, was safe from them for another ten years . . .

Sebastian started forward.

Ciel hastily reached forward and snatched a hold of the butler's jacket sleeve, yanking him back with a strength he hadn't known he possessed. "What the _bloody hell _do you think you're doing?" he nearly yelled.

"Seducing our meal," Sebastian replied calmly.

"That is a _child_," Ciel hissed. "Did we not agree? Only adults."

"I do believe it is time for you to learn how to take what you can get. Finding meals will not always be such an easy feat, Ciel."

"No . . ." Perhaps he was being a bit sentimental, but the child walking down the street in front of him reminded him too much of himself. He had been ten when captured by the occultists. Wasn't this the same thing? Sure, it would be a lot quicker. But for the child to be subjected to such a fate was ridiculous . . . and he would never let it happen. "Don't . . ." he stuttered angrily. "Don't touch him, Sebastian. I . . . I'll make it an order!"

Sebastian stopped mid-step and turned around. Ciel gasped shallowly at the look in the demon's eyes, because . . . it was _feral_. "Is that so?"

Oh . . . _oh_. Sebastian was . . . trying to force him into utilizing the contract! For what reason, he had no idea. But he did know that it was wrong, and he wasn't going to do it. He knew . . . he had to persuade Sebastian to leave the child alone some other way.

So he resorted to something that had his insides crawling.

"Don't . . . Sebastian . . . _please _don't." Begging . . . it was atrocious. But Sebastian liked to see him beg, would do practically anything for it. Ciel thought it was disgusting to have to fall to this, but he would _not _allow Sebastian to kill a child.

The smirk on Sebastian's face fell immediately, which possibly shocked Ciel more than the previous event did. Obviously he was not amused. Did that mean, perhaps, that he was going to be ignored? His grip on the jacket sleeve tightened nervously.

"You never beg," the butler murmured softly. Behind him, the child safely made his way back inside; Ciel relaxed visibly.

"You wouldn't stop," came the quiet reply, and Ciel could not halt the shaking of his body. "And I won't ever use the contract again, not ever. You . . . I didn't know what else to do. You were provoking me, weren't you?"

The tavern down the street spat out a fat drunkard, and Sebastian sighed as he disentangled Ciel's fingers from his sleeve. "Wait here. I'll do everything tonight."

"But—"

"Don't go anywhere."

Ciel groaned to himself and sat down on the edge of the street. That had been . . . nerve-wracking, to say the least. You didn't make Sebastian mad; that was a rule. He was fueled by anger, and when that happened, it was safe to say that his brain wasn't attached to his body. Begging had _never _had that effect on the demon butler before. It was rather frightening.

But then, he hadn't begged in such a long time . . . not since he had been human, to be sure. He knew Sebastian thought of him as more than a meal now. A partner, perhaps. A companion, most definitely. Still, Sebastian liked to tease; it didn't matter who it was. Getting Ciel to beg had been one of the ways to tease him. So why, _why _had the demon's eyes looked so sad when he had done just that?

Ciel slumped down on himself until his head hit his knees. He threaded his fingers through his teal-colored hair and puffed out a visible breath of air. Sebastian's actions always made him like this: thoroughly shaken and wondering just what would become of him as a cause of it. He was so _sure _of everything else. So why was it that everything that involved his damned butler dropped his confidence level down to zero? It was so _unfair_.

A sharp scream echoed through the empty street; Ciel lowered his hands to his ears as he glanced around to see if anyone else had heard the dying drunkard. That was his least favorite part of eating . . . the killing. He'd killed before becoming a demon, yes. But he had always had a plausible reason for doing that sort of thing. Oh, he could just imagine Scotland Yard's reaction if he were ever caught. _Why did you do it?_ they would ask. _Because I was hungry, _he would answer truthfully.

It was laughable, all the same.

"Ciel!" Sebastian called. The child wearily rose to his feet and wandered his way down the street to the alley chosen for the night. The smell of fresh blood suddenly assaulted his nose; against his will he felt his stomach lurch hungrily. The thought of what he was about to do disgusted him, but there wasn't much he could do to change it. He needed the sustenance just as much as he had needed food as a human.

"Would you like to try for the soul again?" Sebastian questioned as soon as he stepped foot into the dark alley.

Ciel nodded grimly and stared down at the fresh corpse. Sebastian usually asked him to try, but it always ended in utter failure. Although, he was constantly reminded that it was one of the first things a demon learned to do, and the fact that he couldn't do it yet was humiliating. He wanted to learn the trick as soon as possible.

"He doesn't smell that good . . ." he muttered quietly.

"His soul certainly is not the ripest one around," Sebastian agreed with a chuckle. "It will do for the time being, however. Please, go ahead before you waste too much time."

Ciel's nose twitched with disgust as he bent down closer to the body; the dead man smelled like cheap whiskey and sweat. The mouth was hanging half open, so luckily he did not have the luxury of having to pry open the lips with his bare hands. He positioned his mouth just above the corpse's, not close enough to kiss but enough to feel the quickly evaporating warmth from the body. He licked his lips nervously and shut his eyes.

Concentration . . . that was what this took. Somewhere inside of this motionless shell was a soul that had yet to be collected. He could picture it crawling up through the body, from the chest and up through the throat, settling in the mouth and just begging to be released . . .

This was the part that he always tended to mess up on. The soul was stuck in that space, and he had to know just the right way to do it or he would risk ruining the intact quality of it. Focus was the key, and that was one thing Ciel did not have much of. His mind always tended to think of different things to distract him from what he was physically doing. That was his biggest mistake.

But this time his mind was still fully focused on the soul floating in the dead man's mouth, and with a slow, almost imperceptible movement, he opened his mouth wider to inhale.

The taste that flowed into his mouth was so unexpected that he snapped his mouth closed on instinct, reeling backwards into Sebastian's chest. "Oh . . ." he gasped shallowly.

"Did my little fledgling just have his first taste of a demon's true nourishment, then?" Sebastian asked amusedly. "What did you think?"

Ciel swallowed uncertainly, feeling the taste linger on his tongue. "It tasted . . . like sweets . . ." He glanced back down at the body nervously. "I ruined it . . ."

"Merely the fact that you managed to obtain a taste is good enough for now. But . . . you should eat the heart, so that you can maintain your composure tomorrow. Merely a taste is not going to sate your hunger for long. Not with a soul of that caliber." In one fluid motion Sebastian plunged his hand into the dead man's chest, just to return with a bloody, still-warm organ staining his white glove. Ciel didn't hesitate to give it a disgusted glare before tentatively taking it into his hands, watching the blood ooze between his pale fingers. "Your eyes are the most delightful shade of red," Sebastian breathed into his ear.

"Shut up," he whispered back. "You know I can't help it. I thought you liked the blue better."

"Under certain circumstances," Sebastian smirked. He moved his body away from Ciel's. "Eat before your food grows cold, and then we can return to the town house."

"Sebastian?"

A harsh glare forced him into motion; he stuck his tongue out to gently lap at the blood covering the organ before biting down with sharp fangs. The hunger assaulted him all at once, and disgust was overtaken by his growling stomach. He lowered his eyes from Sebastian to the ground as he ate, question forgotten for the time being.

He'd never eaten so much at once . . . this was possibly the first time he had ever allowed Sebastian to take him hunting two nights in a row, and he felt relatively stuffed as he languidly flicked his tongue over his hands, collecting every bit of blood that had dripped into the crevices between his fingers. He wouldn't need to hunt for another week, at least, and that thought made him quite a bit happier than he had been just moments before.

"Are you done?"

Ciel glanced up at Sebastian before bobbing his head in a silent nod. Whatever mood the elder demon had been in before hunting seemed to be gone now, and goodness knew Ciel didn't want to provoke him. That didn't mean he wasn't curious about what had happened, though. And it was because of those thoughts that Ciel opened his mouth tentatively one more time. "Sebastian? Um . . . earlier . . ."

"Don't beg again, Ciel," Sebastian ordered firmly. "I should not have provoked you in such a way. But if I ever do it again, do not resort to that. I'm sorry for making you resort to such methods."

"You're . . . apologizing?"

"I'm not _uncaring_," the demon uttered with mock hurt in his gaze.

"Why did you go after a child when I asked you not to?" Finally content with the cleanliness of his hands, Ciel turned to fully gaze at Sebastian.

"I won't answer that right now. You wouldn't understand."

"You _always _say I won't understand!" he complained angrily. "Why don't you ever answer me?"

Sebastian shook his head and gave Ciel one of his signature _don't you dare push it_ looks. Ciel bit his lip as he jerked his head away from that burgundy gaze. "I will tell you when you're ready to hear the answer. Until then, don't ask about it."

"Fine . . ." he grumbled unhappily.

Sebastian's ungloved hand gently tugged one of Ciel's down from his face. Ciel blinked in surprise at the sight: one much larger hand encircling his own tiny one. Black nails screamed out at him . . . traits of the demons that they were. "Let's go," Sebastian told him quietly.

"Ugh . . ." Ciel ripped his hand out of the butler's and whirled around to march out of the alleyway. "I don't need your hand; I can walk by myself. Let's just get back to the town house. I'm tired again."

Sebastian stared for a moment, eyes hardened with an unexplainable emotion.

"And that," he whispered to Ciel's retreating back, too quiet for the child to catch, "is why you aren't ready yet for the answer yet . . ."

**.**

**o.O What in the world could Sebastian be hiding from his bocchan? .**

**Yup. Here I am, updating this at the ungodly morning hours when I should be fast asleep . . . and all because I stayed up all night trying to finish this chapter for you guys. Somehow I feel accomplished . . . even though it feels like I chewed up this chapter and spat it back out. Sorry. XD Hopefully the next chapter won't sound so garbled. Don't worry. I definitely know where I want to go with this. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please feel free to critique/fix any of my errors, and let me know what you're thinking! I always answer any reviews/PMs you guys send me. I really like to chat. :D **

**~Shadow**


	4. Chapter Three: Falling Down

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the property of Toboso Yana**

**Chapter Three: Falling Down**

**Warning: Talk about sexual activities. **

* * *

The flowers _reeked_.

They smelled nothing like red roses, red carnations, or red tulips. In fact, they smelled nothing like flowers at all. They smelled of rotting corpses, of burnt flesh, and of dried blood. It was perhaps the main reason why Jim's Flower Shop was completely devoid of customers. The entire street was empty; the horrid smell floated down all the way past Flo's Book Shop on the corner.

"Whose brilliant idea was it to put a bloody flower shop in such a place?" Ciel demanded irritably.

Sebastian's eyes fluttered down to stare at the boy, but he said nothing. Ciel knew why, of course; he'd been in a particularly bad mood all morning, going so far as to yell at his butler just for speaking. He would apologize, of course . . . at a later time, when he didn't feel like killing every single bug that wanted to cross his path.

"Don't be quiet the entire time, you idiot," the child grumped. A talking Sebastian was annoying, but a silent Sebastian was even worse.

"Shall we go in and find out?" Sebastian chuckled. Oh, Ciel could _see_ the atrocious smirk positioned on the demon's face. He was amused; he always was when this happened. But . . . well, he was too grumpy to care about that right now.

Besides, if Meirin was right and that obnoxious red-head was here, he would have a much better victim for his current temper.

The inside of the shop smelled even worse than the outside, though that came as no surprise for Ciel. He groaned to himself and daintily pressed one glove-clad over his nose to block the putrid scent. "You'd think we were in the morgue . . ." he complained to no one in particular. The shop looked suspiciously the same as it had when it was Undertaker's . . . cobwebs littered the corners of the ceiling, dust coated the floor, and there was even a box that suspiciously looked like a coffin sitting at the other end of the shop. But the smell . . . _oh_, the smell was ten times worse than it had been before.

"Perhaps Ciel would find it easier if he stopped breathing?" Sebastian suggested. "Demons don't have a need to breathe."

"No, you imbecile; we're trying to retain a human appearance here!" Ciel's free hand snuck out to lift one of the blood red carnations. "Rotting meat . . . yuck."

"The shop appears to be empty." Sebastian plucked the flower from Ciel's grasp, nose wrinkled in disgust. "How one gets such beautiful petals to smell like death is beyond me."

"Excuse me."

Ciel turned at the sound of a voice that was decidedly _not _Grelle's. Instead he found himself staring at a young man with huge glasses and blond hair. Sebastian, at least, seemed to know him, and the smell that accompanied this man told him everything he needed to know.

Death God.

"Is there anything particular you need?" the man asked in a bored tone.

"Ronald, was it not?" Sebastian replied pleasantly. "It seems this place is a meeting place of some sort for your kind."

The blonde's head jerked up to stare at them in surprise. "You're the demon Will and I fought. You almost ruined my death scythe!"

"I do apologize, but I had someone else to take care of. Unfortunately, thanks to you, I was unable to reach him in time . . ."

"We don't have time for idle chatter," Ciel spat. "We're looking for someone. Do you work here?"

"Of course I work here. Who are you?"

Really, the man was insufferable. Surely he knew? Ciel didn't necessarily have a large ego, but he knew that he had been a big source of talk even among the Death Gods. They'd been keeping an eye on him; he was sure of that. The eye patch carefully positioned over his eye—for appearance's sake only—should have announced his presence immediately.

"Ciel Phantomhive," he finally growled to the man. "And you are?"

As expected, he received no answer. The second he had announced his presence, Ronald's eyes had practically popped out of their sockets and onto his glasses. "You . . . you're _the _Earl Phantomhive?" he stuttered nervously.

"Former, of course. I denounced my title years ago . . . threw it away."

"That's not the point here!" He ran forward, dropping the armful of garden tools onto the floor in his rush. "You're supposed to be dead, in hell! Your demon was supposed to eat your soul!"

Ciel instinctively took a step back from the energetic man. Honestly, were _all _Death Gods this eccentric? "You should know, judging by your profession," he retorted. "Sebastian never had the chance to take my soul. You're a Death God, you know the fate of all souls . . . mine should have been pretty damn obvious."

"No it's not!" Ronald placed a hand on his hip and glared down at Ciel. "Look, we deal with souls that are on the brink between heaven and hell. Your soul belonged to a demon, so we didn't have control of it. We didn't even know when you would die." He shrugged. "When your soul vanished, we assumed your contract was complete. So how are you still here? And why do you still look like a kid?"

"It's a long story, but basically a dumb blonde and a white-haired bitch made a contract with my body and turned me into a demon. Look, I didn't come here to chat with a stranger. I'm looking for—"

"D-demon?" Ronald hopped backwards, only to pull his body forward again, eyes trained on the child before him. "I think you should prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything to you," Ciel huffed angrily. "I don't even know who you are."

"The scent should tell you easily enough, Mr. Knox." Sebastian finally spoke up, placing one hand protectively on Ciel's shoulder. "Or perhaps the scent of your putrid flowers is diluting your sense of smell?"

"If he is a demon, then why are you still with him? Demons are known for being free spirits. You couldn't possibly _want _to stay with him."

Ciel grimaced uncomfortably. Sure, he'd always thought that Sebastian didn't actually want to stay by him, but it hurt to have the knowledge practically thrown at his face. However, he kept those thoughts to himself and openly retained his haughty attitude, opening his mouth to answer before the butler said something he would later regret. "The contract still exists. He doesn't have a choice but to stay by my side."

"Oh . . . that makes sense, then." Ronald's shoulders slumped understandably. "Well then. What business do two demons have with our society? We do usually try to avoid each other, after all."

"We're looking for Grelle Sutcliffe," Ciel responded calmly.

"Grelle?" The disgust was poorly disguised in the blonde's voice. "That horrid failure? What could you possibly want with _him_?"

"That is a personal business and is not meant for you. I merely want to know if he is in, and if we may have the liberty of speaking with him."

"Uh . . . he's here, I think . . . let me see if I can find him." Ronald made a "wait here" motion with his hand and then disappeared through a door at the back of the shop.

"Who was he?" Ciel demanded, eyes locked fiercely onto Sebastian.

"Ah . . . one Ronald Knox. I am afraid I met him whilst you were getting kidnapped by the Trancys. Ronald and Mr. Spears were to slow me down, I assume. Do you not like him?"

"He's obnoxious. Just like all the rest of them, it seems." A small cough. "Ugh . . . it's extremely hard to breathe in here."

"Again, if you would merely refrain from breathing—"

"It's not as easy as it sounds, okay? Just . . . just leave it alone, Sebastian."

"Now, Ciel," the butler reprimanded firmly. "Just because I said your brain is like a child's doesn't mean you have to act like one. I know you are better than this. What is fueling your temper in such a way?"

Ciel growled.

"Is it Lady Elizabeth's visit scheduled for this afternoon?"

The boy flinched before sinking down into a nearby chair. "I don't want to see her children, and I don't want to meet her husband. Nor do I want to see _her_, for that matter."

"If that is the case, then why did you agree to let her come?"

"Because even if she thinks I'm dead, I still have a duty in which to remain hospitable towards her. I can't tell her to simply 'fuck off', as I would like to do."

"What vulgar language the humans have created these days." Sebastian knelt down in front of the chair, though before Ciel could protest at the butler's actions, he merely reached up to adjust the fabric over his eye. "But you did agree to grant her a visit, and as such, you should not act in such a foul manner. Especially when it was your decision in the first place. You may have denounced your title . . . but for today, you must be Earl Phantomhive. Not Ciel the Miserable Demon." Sebastian smiled, and for once it was without malice or deceit. It was the smile of the Phantomhive butler. "Understood, My Lord?"

"For today only," the Earl agreed. Even if he hadn't acted in such a way for twenty years, it was a demeanor he would never forget . . . no matter how many decades or centuries that would pass him by. He threw despair and longing from his eyes, replacing those lonesome feelings with ones of cold indifference. His posture straightened, his head tilted up arrogantly, and even his _aura _became stronger. "If that is the case," he said condescendingly, "then quit sitting there like a groveling dog and go back to your rightful place as my servant."

However . . . just as Sebastian rose back to his feet, the back door flung open with a force so hard it nearly flew off its hinges. A ball of bright red that Ciel would recognize anywhere practically attacked his butler, and only when the dust settled did the Earl realize that Grelle Sutcliffe had wrapped his legs around Sebastian's neck and was practically fondling the demon's head. "Ah, Sebastian Darling!" the red-head squealed happily. "Oh, I thought I would never _see _you again! Especially not after you ate the little brat—"

Ciel loudly cleared his throat. "Mr. Sutcliffe, if you would kindly get your filthy hands off of my butler . . ."

"Ah!" Grelle fell clumsily from his perch—with Sebastian's help, of course—and took to glaring unhappily at the boy through crooked glasses. "_You_! Why aren't you dead, you ungrateful little bi—"

"That is quite enough, Grelle," Sebastian announced as he retreated to Ciel's left side. "My master has business with you, and that is the only reason why you have been graced with our presence once again."

"Enough, Sebastian," Ciel sighed. "Mr. Sutcliffe, I expect your full compliance during this; otherwise I will inform your superior that you acted without orders that night the triplet servants of the Trancy house were murdered." Ciel smirked. Sure, Grelle had been following Sebastian that night, but those servants had been killed with Grelle's weapon, _by _Grelle . . . and William T. Spears had not ordered him to do such a thing.

"H-how did you know about that?"

"From Sebastian, obviously. But that's beside the point. Are you going to comply, or will I have to tattle?"

"Damn you, Earl," the Death God hissed, but he moved to sit Indian-style on the dusty floor, his shoulders slumped in submission. "Fine, whatever. But I'm not telling you anything that could get me in trouble. I've already been suspended from the Society twice, you know."

"Luckily for you, we require nothing of the sort to receive our answers." Ciel crossed one stocking-clad leg over the other, left hand tapping expectantly against the arm of the chair. "We want to know where the Undertaker is."

"Undertaker? How would I know where he is?"

"My old maid, Meirin, informed me that you would know of his whereabouts. Quite frankly, Mr. Sutcliffe, I would believe her over you any day."

Grelle grimaced—a truly disturbing face when accompanied by shark-like teeth—and squeezed his emerald eyes shut. "W-well, you see, he moved to go into hiding, after all . . ."

"I don't particularly care to know his reason for moving," the Earl sighed. "I want to know where he is at the moment. It's not like you can get in trouble for telling me. He is a retired member of your Society, and therefore he has no rights to order you to do something within those means."

"True . . ." Grelle's eyes briefly flitted over to Sebastian; Ciel had to resist a laugh of amusement since it seemed the Death God was begging the older demon for help. "Oh, fine, but if Will questions this I'm going to tell him it's not my fault. He's on the other side of London right now."

"I'm not asking for a general area, I'm asking you where he is. Stop playing games, Mr. Sutcliffe."

"Sebastian . . ." Grelle whined unhappily.

"Oh dear . . . Young Master, do you think I should cut his hair off for addressing your servant in such a manner?"

"No! No no no, do you know how long it took me to grow this out? He's running a candy shop called M.E.L.T.! He built it right under Big Ben!"

"M.E.L.T.?" Ciel repeated curiously.

"It stands for 'Many Extremely Lavish Treats'. Look, is that all you needed to know? You're not the only ones that have threatened to cut off my hair, you know . . ."

"Big Ben, then?" Ciel glanced over at Sebastian slowly. "What do you think?"

"We would not be able to make it to that part of London and back in time to greet Lady Elizabeth, I am afraid. We shall have to postpone the visit to Undertaker until tomorrow."

"I suspected that was the case." The boy trained his eye on Grelle again with a small frown adorning his features. "That will be all, Mr. Sutcliffe. I appreciate your willingness to talk."

"I wasn't _willing!_" the Death God shrieked. "Sebastian darling, why are you still with this brat? Surely you would be more content with someone like me—mph!"

Sebastian calmly removed his gloved hand from Grelle's face and then extended the other one towards Ciel. "Shall we prepare for Lady Elizabeth's arrival, Young Master?"

"If it means we can leave this horrid stench behind, then gladly. Good day, Mr. Sutcliffe."

"B-but . . . Seba—"

"Good _day_, Mr. Sutcliffe." Ciel accepted the offered hand and rose to his feet. Really, this person . . . there was a _reason _they had avoided Grelle. He just didn't know when to stop.

The second the door to the flower shop closed behind them, Ciel sucked in a breath of . . . well, _semi_-fresh air. If he weren't a demon, he would have died in there; he was sure of it. There was no way a smell that bad was normal . . . or good for you.

"Grelle seemed to have no aversion to the stench," Sebastian chuckled.

"That's because Grelle is an abnormal freak," Ciel huffed . . . earning an infuriated shriek from somewhere within the building. The boy demon pulled himself into the carriage with a hardly restrained sigh of relief and was quickly followed by Sebastian. The clean air of the compartment had Ciel's tense shoulders relaxing within seconds; he sagged against the side of the carriage and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Young Master, you should not go back to sleep; the town house is not far from—"

"Sebastian."

". . . Yes, Ciel?"

"Burn these clothes once we have returned. I plan on taking a rather thorough bath as well. I want this smell gone by the time Lizzy arrives."

"Would you like me to give you a bath, then?" There was no mockery in the demon's tone; he was being completely serious.

Ciel cracked his eye open to stare at the other man, choosing to ask his question—upon which began along the lines of _why _the butler was asking such a thing—by way of expression.

"You need to relax," Sebastian explained. "You cannot rightly do that while you're washing yourself."

"Very well." He smiled, letting his hardened shell drop for the time being. "You haven't given me a bath in years, Sebastian. What brings the sudden suggestion, then?"

"I haven't given you a bath because you haven't let me, of course." The demon paused as the carriage jerked forward, and then continued with another amused smirk. "It might be presumptuous of me to say this, but I always did enjoy giving you your bath."

"What in the world could possibly be entertaining about giving someone else a bath?"

"While you were alive—and I do apologize for bringing your past up—your bath time was the perfect chance to wind down after a particularly long day, was it not?"

"I suppose . . ." Ciel mused. "But that still doesn't mean you have to _enjoy _it. It was another one of your duties."

"It was the quiet, I think." Sebastian closed his eyes, and Ciel had the faintest notion that the butler was perhaps . . . _reminiscing_. "The servants were not running everywhere making a ruckus, and the attitude you forced me to put up with melted as soon as you were in the tub. It was one of the only times I found your silence tolerable."

"Oh . . . I see. I suppose that does make a bit of sense. Though . . . you do realize you make it sound as though you couldn't stand me any other time?"

"I shall say _more _tolerable, then. Will that satisfy you?"

"Coming from you, that will have to do." The conversation was confusing Ciel just the slightest bit. He liked it when Sebastian gave him baths, although he would never admit it. He liked the treatment a little _too _much. It was because he liked it that he stopped the nightly routine. If Sebastian thought he felt content during bath time as well, he would never hear the end of it. But . . . that was why he found it so odd that Sebastian liked it as well. He'd always thought it was merely another duty as a servant to carry out.

For Sebastian to like it . . .

Well, he chose not to think of it anymore. Sebastian would leave him soon enough—once the contract was broken—and he would never experience that calming time during the evening again. He would just have to take what he could before it was no longer available.

"You have been thinking quite hard these past few days, Ciel," Sebastian commented idly. The boy glanced up to find the demon cocking his head curiously, eyes back to their normal condescending state.

"Have I?" he muttered. "I apologize. My head does seem to stay in the clouds more often than not anymore." Ciel slowly propped his head up with his hand to better keep his eye on his companion.

"You're exceptionally bitter as well. What are you thinking about?"

"Things you shouldn't concern yourself over. Leave it be, Sebastian. I shall pull myself back together presently."

"As efficiently as ever, I assume. You won't lapse into thoughts when Lady Elizabeth is in, will you?"

"Of course not. Such behavior is vulgar in front of guests. For her . . . I will be the old Ciel Phantomhive." _The one who didn't run from his own problems, _he added internally.

"An old Phantomhive that smiles, My Lord?"

"Smiles? I never smiled then, either. That aspect hasn't changed, at least. Somehow I doubt I will ever be able to smile again. At least, not the way I did before I turned ten."

Sebastian's gloved hands were in front of Ciel's face before he even realized the other was moving. Both of his cheeks were pinched, fingers pulling on the porcelain skin until his face had been forced into a half smiling, half horrified grimace. "That may be so," the butler remarked, "but Lady Elizabeth has always strived to see you smile in a carefree way. You should oblige her just this once. Let her know that you really did want to be happy for her."

"Let go . . ." Ciel grounded out around his pinched skin.

"But Young Master, I simply can't resist playing with those beautiful cheeks of yours."

Angrily he swatted the hands away and threw one extra scowl towards Sebastian just for good measure. "Neither Lizzy or her husband will be surprised if I don't smile. I don't feel carefree anyhow. I don't . . . remember how to feel happy. I'm certainly not going to fake my emotions. What would be the gain in that?"

"Yes . . . that is true. That is one thing my darling master was always good at." Sebastian reluctantly sat back and leveled his eyes at Ciel's again. "You show no hesitance in expressing those negative emotions of yours. A pity that is _all _you show."

"You say that like you are implying about something else. What more do you mean by that?"

"I believe, Ciel, that you will have to figure that out on your own. It isn't something I can simply tell you and expect you to understand."

Ciel frowned, but he pushed the matter no further. However, he did catch the look in Sebastian's eyes just before he lowered his gaze . . . and it confused him to no end. There was amusement, curiosity, _frustration_ . . . and just a hint of sadness.

He had _never _seen that look in his butler's eyes before.

* * *

For lack of anything better to do, Ciel decided to watch as Sebastian readied the bath. He had already undressed and donned his bathrobe; it had taken him no more than two minutes and he had no urge to flounce around in the house practically naked. So, he had inched his way into the bathroom and took a perch on the sink's counter while he waited.

Sebastian moved around with practiced ease. Where Ciel would fumble with the heavy buckets of water—freshly heated—the butler smoothly shifted two at once, pouring all of the steaming contents in without spilling a single drop. Where Ciel would accidentally pour a much larger amount of fragrance oil into the tub at once, the butler measured out the exact amount needed. And where Ciel would . . .

Wait.

"Bubbles?" he questioned in surprise. He hardly bathed with bubbles even before he became a demon, so of course it was a bit unexpected. Just a bit childish, too, but . . .

"I thought you wouldn't mind," Sebastian replied without turning around. "Is it not to your liking?"

"No, it's fine. Just . . . why?"

"You have always appeared to relax better with a bubble bath; I assumed it would help you prepare for our guests' arrival."

"It's because Mother always used to give me bubble baths," he replied conversationally. "They still tend to remind me of her."

"If I may be so bold . . ." Now Sebastian turned around, gesturing for Ciel to join him. "Which of your parents were you closer to? You talk about both of them quite a lot."

"My mother, naturally." Ciel hopped down from the sink. "She didn't work, and she spent most of her time raising me to be like Father. But I admired my father much more than my mother. I couldn't wait to grow up and be a businessman like him. I suppose I loved them both the same, but there were different things about each of them that stood out for me."

"You remember them well." The robe pooled around Ciel's body; he stepped over the discarded fabric and took Sebastian's hand to help him into the bath tub.

"Well, it's not like I _want _to forget them. I hope I always do remember them. Because they were _normal_ . . . there was nothing supernatural about them, like there is about me now. They really were the perfect parents."

"I see. I suppose that means you miss having parents . . . or being spoiled in such a way."

Ciel sighed in relief as he sank into the bath water. The temperature was perfect, in a way he could never manage to get it, and he doubted he would want to get out of the tub until the water was past cold. "I don't miss being spoiled," he continued. "Besides, I think I'm yet spoiled enough the way it is. As for missing parents . . . I wouldn't say that either. It's in the past, and all I have are fond memories of them, but . . . I can't change what happened. They're dead, they aren't coming back, and I will forever be an orphan at this point."

"Never once have I heard you refer to yourself as an orphan. Are you not a man? Does the term 'orphan' not refer to a child's loss?"

"You're going back on your word now. Just earlier you claimed I would always be a child."

Sebastian shook his head firmly. "I did say that. However, I said that with the thought in mind that you never outwardly acted like a child. At least, other than at night."

"At night . . .? Oh." Ciel scoffed. "I couldn't help the nightmares. It wasn't like I could tell them not to come. Besides, I suppose . . . I suppose you were the father figure whenever the nightmares came, weren't you?" The demon child cast his eyes downwards, into the soapy recesses of the water. It was an extremely embarrassing memory to recall.

"I did try," Sebastian chuckled. "As much as you denied help, you always accepted it. Besides, I did eventually manage to get rid of those nightmares for you, didn't I?"

"In a rather vulgar way."

"Vulgar? Why, Young Master, at the time you assumed it was perfectly natural. It seemed to work, after all. A simple kiss on the mouth and you were sleeping peacefully—" (1)

"Don't mention that." He sank down further into the bubbles. "It's embarrassing."

"Was it truly embarrassing, or are you just saying that to hide the fact that it really did work?" The butler leaned over the tub and to the wall beyond, where the supplies were located.

"It did _not_ work," he protested angrily. "I was just too shocked to think about anything else—mmph!"

Ciel flailed angrily as Sebastian unexpectedly ducked down and pushed his larger mouth against the boy's. It was just like then, after the nightmares, but . . . there was more of a desperate feel to it. Ciel froze, not recognizing that particular emotion accompanying the simple kiss. It was like Sebastian was looking for something, or perhaps asking for something.

Something that he knew he couldn't—and wouldn't—give.

"Get _off_," he managed, shoving the elder demon away from him infuriatingly and splashing water all over the place. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"I was merely proving a point." The smirk never left the demon's face, and Ciel wondered if maybe Sebastian was using the smile to hide his real emotions. There had certainly been something in that touch that merited unhappiness. "Are you ready to wash?"

"Do what you want."

"I could take that to mean several different things, but I am feeling nice and so I won't tease you." Sebastian moved from beside the bathtub to behind it. Ciel didn't turn his head to follow; he knew that in just a moment, the butler would get down on his knees with a plentiful supply of shampoo stashed in his hands, and Sebastian would begin to wash his hair.

"You mean things that a demon such as yourself would think about? Perverted things?"

"Still bitter, are we?"

"I didn't give you permission to do something like that!"

"In which case, now it sounds as though you are rescinding your own declaration to not order me about anymore. Am I not my own being? Can I not spontaneously kiss my partner?"

"Isn't that also called being a pedophile?" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest angrily. He let his face show that he was annoyed . . . but truthfully, he wasn't. The banter felt just the same as it had years ago, and Ciel welcomed it. Sebastian was a pervert; he had known that even before becoming a demon. He didn't mind it, either. He supposed that was just the way demons were. As long as he didn't take out that perverted nature on _him_, though.

"Ah, but one is only considered a pedophile when the victim is a child. And while your body, Ciel, is certainly one of a child's, the fact remains that you are almost midway through your thirties."

"Ugh . . . why must you constantly make it sound as though I am old?"

Sebastian's hands met his hair at that point, and Ciel realized that he missed those long, spindly fingers running through his locks at bath time. It made him instantly relax, arms falling down into his lap. He tilted his head back to give the butler easier access. "You are not old, and certainly not compared to me," Sebastian chuckled. "Don't you feel sexually frustrated in the least? Thirty-three and still a virgin. You should find a way to fix that."

"Shut up, Sebastian. I have enough problems the way it is. You think I want to have a one-night stand with some girl just so that I'm not a virgin anymore? You're sick."

The hands stopped massaging the base of his scalp for just a moment. Ciel jumped as Sebastian's voice resounded just beside his ear, so close that he could feel the demon's chest rumbling as he spoke. "If that is the case, then I wouldn't mind deflowering you myself."

"Sebastian!"

"I was merely making a suggestion," was the innocent reply. The hands returned to their rhythmical massaging.

"What is _with _you today?" Ciel griped, sinking down further under the bubbles.

"Perhaps I am merely feeling just a bit of a sexual tension myself." The fingers ventured forward, and soap traveled its way down Ciel's forehead and over his cheeks. He closed his eyes to avoid it before it could burn. "I need a release every now and then too."

"So go out and find you a prostitute. Don't go after little boys. Honestly, I had no idea you were into that sort of thing."

"I didn't think so either." The words were so quiet that human ears would not have heard them. But Ciel did, and he hardly resisted the urge to open his eyes despite the soap still falling over his eyelids. It almost sounded like a confession, but at that point in time, he didn't want to think about it, and he certainly didn't want to ask about it. He decided to drop the topic . . . and hopefully it wouldn't turn up again.

"I think my hair has been washed enough now," he said instead.

"Ah . . . you're quite right. I apologize. I was a bit distracted." The hands left his head . . .

And that was that.

* * *

An hour later found Ciel digging through his newly replenished wardrobe for something appropriate to wear, a white bathrobe wrapped over his tiny frame. Sebastian had gone to set the table—which had not been used in twenty years, of course—and had left Ciel to change on his own, as was per norm. The boy-demon was grateful for the privacy this time. Since the discussion in the bathroom, he felt awkward around the butler.

He felt like he was missing something . . . something important. Like Sebastian had been trying to tell him something for some time now, but he couldn't figure it out. Sebastian seemed so melancholy compared to his normal attitude. Was he perhaps beginning to miss being a lone demon, away from any sort of contact with others of his kind? It was a plausible explanation . . .

And yet, Ciel knew that wasn't the case. Sebastian was happy to be with him like this. As much as he wanted to break the contract and provide the demon with a sense of freedom, he knew that he didn't _mind _being bound in such a way. There had to be some other reason the butler was feeling sad. He knew, and yet at the same time, he didn't want to do anything about it. He knew that whatever it was, it would jar his determination to reach this one last goal. Whatever Sebastian was going through . . . it would have to wait until after the contract had been broken. Otherwise everything Ciel had been working towards these past twenty years would be put into jeopardy.

Sebastian had put the clothes from the manor in the very back of the wardrobe, perhaps in the hopes that Ciel would forget about them and leave them to sit. But Lizzy had always hated the color black, and though Ciel didn't mind it himself—except when he had to constantly wear it—he wanted to appear to his former fiancé in the best possible way. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he tugged the first white undershirt from the wardrobe; it meant he would be able to find what he wanted. He continued rummaging through the old clothes until he came upon an elegant blue outfit, complete with a white cravat and a matching sapphire hat. He pondered the clothing choice for just a moment before bringing it over to the bed, slipping the bathrobe from his shoulders, and pulling on the clothes as best as he could without wrinkling them.

Five minutes later he stood before his full length mirror, adjusting the hat upon his head, checking for the tenth time that his eyes were blue and not red. He felt a distinct sense of nostalgia upon looking at himself in that blue wardrobe. He felt young again—younger than he normally felt, that is—and he very nearly smiled at his reflection before he realized what he was doing. Surely Elizabeth would be pleased with his appearance. As a matter of fact, he looked like he'd just been forced into one of the outfits she chose for him, and it might well have been. But it was blue, and it was his favorite shade, and it felt _right _on him. He could become Earl Phantomhive again in this. The very atmosphere in the room seemed to change.

Black was a depressing color. Blue was an uplifting one. And Ciel could feel his spirits rising in a way that merited a well-being the likes of which he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"My, my," came an amused laugh from just behind him. He jumped, having gotten lost in his thoughts and not realizing that Sebastian had entered the room again. "All these years and you _still _haven't learned to tie that eye patch the right way."

"It's not as if I've had much practice," Ciel scoffed, turning away from the mirror. "You know as well as I that I haven't worn this since I left the manor back then."

"Of course. I doubt you need get used to it as well; once we have the contract matter solved you won't be seeing them again. We might have to leave London."

"And good riddance," he muttered. He had never liked London, with its streets smelling of the dead and the commoners swarming around trying to grab a scrap of food all the time. He would be glad to get out of the horrid city.

But chances were, he'd be doing so alone.

He held patiently still as Sebastian fixed his eye patch and continued to inspect himself in the mirror. Really, the only thing different about him now was his paler-than-before skin. There was no color in it . . . like he hadn't seen the sun in years. The black made him look like he was a step from death, though, so he was glad he hadn't worn it. Elizabeth probably wouldn't notice any difference, at least.

"The Young Master looks good in that outfit," Sebastian stated. "You remind me of your human days."

"That's why I did it. Besides, Lizzy doesn't like me in black. I thought I would indulge."

Sebastian's hands moved from the strings of the eye patch to fix Ciel's newly-mussed hair. "Lady Elizabeth is a picky person, however. You never did like to follow her likes before. Is it because you wish to impress?"

"Not at all; you know that. Why should I feel a need to impress her when I already had her attention back then? You're the one who told me to become a nobleman for the day. And a proper nobleman does not wear dreary colors to a reunion of sorts."

"Would you have married her if you hadn't become like this?"

"You mean if my contract would have allowed me to live to the proper age of matrimony?" Ciel responded. He turned away from the mirror to face the butler; he still felt a bit awkward about the earlier situation, but he would put that aside and keep the fact that Sebastian had become confusing all of a sudden to himself. "I would have done it. But I doubt either of us would have been happy. It's just like I told her. I loved her . . . but not in _that _way."

"Ah . . . so there was someone else you loved in _that _way?"

"I never implied that, you bastard. Stop putting words in my mouth."

Sebastian frowned. "But just now, you did not deny it. So there was someone you loved in a romantic fashion. Who was it? That one Countess, perhaps—"

Ciel growled and swiped his gloves from the demon's waiting hand. "You don't know when to shut up, do you? I didn't like anyone! There, are you happy?"

"Really, Young Master, if you can't take a bit of teasing then you're no fun at all. What kind of a demon are you?"

"A demon that wishes he was something else, that's what." Angrily he tugged the gloves over his black-nailed fingers. Why did Sebastian _always _make him so mad? Perhaps he was merely being curious, but it really wasn't his business, even if he had liked someone back then! It wasn't like he had actually paid any attention to girls at twelve or thirteen anyway. He was much too concerned with finding those occultists and exacting his revenge to concern himself with romance. Honestly!

"Ah, the carriage has arrived," Sebastian commented nonchalantly. "I shall welcome them into the parlor while you finish preparing yourself. Shall I come back up to escort you?"

"Yes." Ciel glanced sideways at the butler one last time before he walked back into the bathroom, just so it would _seem _like he had something more to get ready. In reality he didn't; he just wasn't ready to face Elizabeth's family just yet, and Sebastian knew it. Children . . . even though he was technically still a child himself, he still didn't know how to react near them. He wondered if it would be awkward, or they would hate him. He didn't remember what it was like to _act _childish anymore. Perhaps they were taller than him?

. . . Well, _that _would be embarrassing.

No, he would act the way he always had, whether he was surrounded by a horde of children or not. Still . . . the thought of Elizabeth having children was slightly daunting. He'd always thought that if they were to marry, they would have no children. As such, it had become a common mental image of Elizabeth childless. To know she actually had them now . . . it made him happy and sad all at once. He didn't really have a reason for being sad, other than thinking that he had probably broken her heart when he had "died" and he had to wonder how long it had taken her to piece that part of her life together again. But he was happy because she _had _done just that, he was happy that she was able to have a normal family, and, more than anything, he was happy that she was happy.

Ciel continued to stand motionlessly in his bathroom until Sebastian returned for him. By this time he believed himself to be prepared for whatever awaited him. At least, until . . .

"Young Master, they are all three quite adorable," that infuriating demon informed him with a smile.

Any confidence he'd built up in the last ten minutes came crashing back down at his feet. Breathing slowly, he followed his butler down the hall towards the stairs. "Are they quite tolerable?" he asked nervously.

"Oh yes, they are all very well-behaved. It is a bit of a shock seeing as two of them are just at the age where they would much rather run around than sit and watch stuffy old adults talk."

"I am _not_—"

"To them you are stuffy and old. Unless, of course, the Young Master would be interested in playing with the little ones?"

"You bloody arse," Ciel growled.

The parlor was quiet . . . he could faintly hear Elizabeth's excited voice saying something, but other than that, there was nothing. That made him feel awkward; he didn't want them to feel out of place here. Although . . . it _was _true that his town house was one of the more extravagant once in London thanks to the late Queen Victoria. He would just have to make them more comfortable during their visit. With that in mind, he pushed open the door—

"Ciel!" Elizabeth practically squealed, throwing her much larger form at him from the couch across the room. "Thank you _so _much for having us! Oh, I kept telling Edward it was really you, but the poor dear didn't believe a word I said. I had to bring him and prove it to him! You'll love each other, I _know _you will!"

"Elizabeth!" the man still at the couch protested. "That is no way to greet your host!"

"It is quite alright," Ciel responded, worming his way out of her tight grasp. "I can assure you that I am used to this sort of greeting coming from her. Welcome; I am Ciel Phantomhive."

The quest stood and bowed respectfully. Ciel ran his eyes over the man as he straightened back up. He was very tall, and clean-shaven with a deceptively youthful face. Under normal circumstances, the boy could tell that he was a man of good humor and taste . . . he was someone perfect for Lizzy. Yes, he could easily get along with this person.

"And you are . . .?"

"Ah, yes, quite right! I'm dreadfully sorry! I am Edward Childs . . . a Count as of now."

Ciel allowed a small smile to tug at his face; this man certainly _was _funny. "Well then, Count, I suggest you sit down and relax. This is an informal visit, not a business meeting."

"Thank you, Earl," he sighed in relief, his stress leaking away to reveal a pleasant smile. "Elizabeth, why don't you introduce him to the children? That is the reason we came in the first place, after all."

"Would you like something to eat?" Ciel quickly intervened, sitting himself in his armchair. "Sebastian will bring out some tea for you as well."

"That would be lovely," Edward replied, seating himself as well. Sebastian bowed politely at this statement and exited the room.

"Ciel, this is the oldest!" Elizabeth exclaimed happily, pushing a person Ciel had neglected to notice upon first entering. He found a girl standing in front of him, her blonde hair in plaits that hung down over her shoulders, green eyes staring at him inquisitively. She looked like a calm version of Elizabeth, and with that thought in mind, he smiled tentatively at her.

Embarrassingly enough, she _was _taller than him.

"This is Charlotte," Lizzy laughed. "Lottie, say hi to the Earl, dear."

"Hello, Earl Phantomhive," she repeated politely, with an accompanying curtsy.

"How old are you?" Ciel asked curiously.

"Fourteen, sir."

"Older than me . . . how utterly odd. Please, Miss Charlotte, just Ciel is fine."

She smiled delightedly. "Then you can call me Lottie!"

"Charlotte! Be polite!"

"Once again, it's perfectly alright, Mr. Childs. She can act whichever way she wants." Ciel trained his eye back on the girl. "Lottie it is, then. It's very nice to meet you."

"And this one!" Elizabeth hastily continued, shoving the second one forward. It was a boy this time, clearly younger than Charlotte but still just as tall. He looked more like his father, with straight brown hair hanging just past his chin and dark blue eyes. However, he seemed to have obtained his personality from his mother . . . a fact that Ciel realized with a small wince.

"I'm Isaiah, Mister Ciel, sir," he stated bluntly, smiling just as excitedly as his sister. "I'm eleven!"

"Damn, they're _all _taller than me," Ciel groaned to himself. "Hello, Isaiah. You're quite a bit energetic, aren't you?"

"Mm, Mama said she used to be just like that!"

"She still is," Mr. Childs groaned; Ciel sent a smirk in the man's direction.

"Mr. Childs, how long ago did you meet Lizzy?"

"It's been sixteen years, I suppose. It took another year after that to persuade her to let me court her. She was still in mourning, you see, after losing . . ."

"No, I understand. So . . . I am guessing that you've never seen Lizzy's worst potential."

"Oh, Ciel, I was never _that _bad!" she protested. "I did it all on purpose, after all. I just wanted to see you smile—"

"Isn't there a third child?" he asked to cut her off. He really didn't feel like hearing about that sort of thing at the moment. Lizzy had always gone on and on about that sort of thing. If it was like Sebastian said, then she _still _probably wanted to see him smile . . . a _real _smile.

And goodness knew he was even less ready for that kind of thing now than when he was a human.

"R-right." Suddenly the blonde woman was nervous, eyes shifting over to her husband cautiously. Ciel frowned; what could possibly be wrong with this third child? A disability, perhaps? No . . . if that were the case, Lizzy wouldn't have been nervous. To her, he was disabled as well. He cocked his head to the side curiously as Lizzy continued to stutter. "Now listen, you mustn't think ill of me, okay?" she muttered hastily. "I . . . I just thought you wouldn't mind, and . . ."

"Just show him, Elizabeth," Mr. Childs sighed. His smile, Ciel noticed, was just as nervous.

And then, a toddler was dropped into his lap.

Ciel jumped noticeably in embarrassment; he had no idea how to react to a child like this, and he was quite understandably nervous about doing something wrong. But as soon as he glanced down at the young person on his legs, he forgot about that. Because . . .

The resemblance was _unreal_.

The little boy's teal hair was just a tad bit lighter than his own, and cut in just the same way. He was too thin and too small for his age, but at least there didn't seem to have any physical problems. His eyes . . . that was what got Ciel the most. The child's eyes were bright cerulean blue.

The same exact color as his own.

He glanced back up at Elizabeth in bewilderment, but she only offered a timid smile. "Odd, isn't it?" she asked bashfully. "I knew from the moment he was born that he was going to look just like you. He has his father's nose, and the shape of my eyes, but . . ." She shook her head. "We named him after you. I asked Edward about it, because it was such a perfect chance . . . he didn't mind at all. So . . . this is Ciel, and he's four."

The child was staring right back at him with those searing blue eyes, looking just as shocked as Ciel felt. "Are you my godfather?" the little boy asked bluntly.

"Eh?"

"Mama said my godfather looked just like me." A tiny finger reached up and poked the area under Ciel's left eye. "You look like me."

"Ah . . . um . . ." He looked over at Elizabeth again and this time was graced with a nod. "I guess I am," he replied sheepishly. "Lizzy, this is a bit . . ."

"His first name is Ciel, but we call him Niam," she laughed. "That should make things just a bit easier."

"Mm."

Niam beamed a large smile at him—one that made him freeze all over again—and turned around on his lap. He seemed content to sit there, even going as far as to lean his head back against Ciel's chest with that smile still in place. "Can I call you Second Papa?" the child cheerfully questioned.

Ciel blinked in surprise; that had been a question he was _not _expecting. "Um, I don't . . ."

"Why don't you call him Papa?" Elizabeth offered. "That's a bit easier to say than Second Papa. If Ciel doesn't mind, of course."

"That's fine," Ciel practically whispered.

All of this was making nostalgia bubble up to the forefront of his mind. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment, not at all, but he was reminded of how he would crawl into his father's lap . . . how as a young child, it was his favorite place to be. For just a moment, he was reminded of his own childhood. Of how much he had enjoyed it, and how . . .

How much he _missed _it.

"It is a nice day outside, isn't it?" he asked suddenly. "Why don't we migrate to the gardens? I will have Sebastian bring the tea out there, and the children can play."

"The word 'children' coming from your mouth sounds so strange, Ciel," Lizzy said with a soft laugh. "After all, my eldest child is older than you."

"Yeah . . . it's strange to me too . . ."

"Carry me?" Niam asked, this time with a hint of shyness. He stared up at Ciel pleadingly and extended his hands. He seemed excited at the prospect of going outside to play, but the fact that he wanted a literal stranger to hold him was a bit disorienting. Still . . . it couldn't be that hard, could it?

". . . Sure," Ciel finally agreed. Elizabeth beamed yet another smile at her youngest child, apparently happy that they were getting along already. But Mr. Childs seemed just a little annoyed at this. There was something about the man that shouted "jealous". "Count?" he asked calmly. "Is something the matter?"

"No," the man replied with a sad shake of the head. "It is just a bit odd that Niam likes you."

"Niam doesn't like anyone except for Mama," Isaiah added sagely. "He won't let Father hold him."

"He reminds me so much of you . . . after the accident, you know." Elizabeth held out a hand to help her husband to his feet. "He doesn't trust just anyone. He must really like you. I'm so glad! You really don't mind being their godfather?"

"No, I don't mind. But Lizzy, you know that once I . . . um, I won't be here any . . ."

"I know," she whispered. "But it's enough that you were here long enough to agree. It's made me so happy."

The door opened then to reveal Sebastian, tea-and-cake-filled tray in hand. He paused at the sight of everyone on their feet, and then his eyes flickered to Ciel. The boy demon blushed as the butler smirked, probably at the sight of the child on his lap. "Are we going somewhere, then?" he questioned calmly.

"Yes, we're relocating to the gardens. Please follow us with the tea." Ciel glanced down at Niam again, this time with an intent to stand. Niam complied immediately and wrapped his arms around Ciel's neck. After that, it was surprisingly easy to fall into the role of caretaker; Ciel slid his arm under the toddler's and stood up. Niam giggled in his ear and hugged slightly.

"Papa's just the right size," he exclaimed happily.

"Papa?" Sebastian chuckled as Ciel walked past him, in a voice too soft for any of the humans to hear.

Ciel made sure to stomp on his foot extra hard before moving from the doorway.

* * *

Niam clambered down from Ciel's lap almost as soon as they sat down, running over to play with his brother and sister in the middle of the garden. The boy demon noticed that Sebastian's eyes were trained on the child's throughout the afternoon, and he couldn't help but to wonder just what he was thinking about. There was something different about the child, yes, but Ciel didn't really think it was enough to garner the demon's attention.

"I feel a bit awkward, indulging in tea and snacks when the host himself does not," Mr. Childs admitted. It was obvious that he enjoyed the tea, however, judging by the greedy glances he kept sneaking at the teapot.

"It is perfectly alright," Ciel replied indifferently. He didn't particularly care to make up a reasonable excuse for avoiding the foul-smelling liquid, but he did for the sake of hiding his true nature. "I'm not much in the mood for tea at the moment. Please, take as much as you wish. Sebastian can always make some more if you like. His tea is of the finest quality, is it not?"

"Sebastian's tea has always tasted so good!" Elizabeth was quick to agree. "I thought I'd never be able to try it again. It's even better than I remember it."

"I am honored by your compliment, Lady Elizabeth," the butler responded, eyes flickering away from Niam only momentarily.

"Oh, poo," Lizzy pouted. "We're friends too, aren't we, Sebastian? Don't be so formal."

"It is merely a force of habit, My Lady. Please do excuse me, but I am quite used to saying it." And then his eyes dashed back over to the frolicking children.

"Mr. Childs, I am quite curious as to what your profession is," Ciel cut in, effectively turning the conversation away from Sebastian. "Neither you nor your wife has informed me of this."

"Still a businessman to the core," Edward chuckled. "I am the head of a chain of book stores, you see. Books are becoming very popular these days, and there is a high demand for them." He leaned forward against the table. "Your company has died out, you know. But the Funtom toys and candies are considered valuables now. It is quite astonishing."

Ciel raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I can understand that the factories would be shut down ever since I . . . left, but to hear that some of my toys are still popular among the children makes me quite bewildered."

"They are mostly popular these days because the designer of the toys was a child. A prodigy."

"A prodigy?" he scoffed. "My parents died in a fire. I had to support myself in some way to keep up my social standing. It was a necessity."

Sebastian's eyes flickered over to Ciel once, a devious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ciel frowned and decided to ignore the glance.

"I see . . . however, how did your company take off so quickly? Most beginning companies fail to make a profit for the first few years."

"You fail to realize that I had the Queen on my side. Not to mention that my butler here is quite good at setting up deals with other businessmen. I went mainstream fairly quickly thanks to those two things."

"Ah, because you were the Queen's Watchdog."

Ciel's eyes narrowed; the Count was treading into uncharted waters at this point. "Do watch what you say, Mr. Childs. I was in fact the late Queen's most trusted person, and it was mostly because I was able to stop all issues that she sent for me to fix, unlike the fools at Scotland Yard. (2) Your declaration of "Watchdog" makes it sound as though you had no respect for Her Majesty. Furthermore, it is rude to delve into one's past life. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, of course, Earl," he sighed reluctantly. Elizabeth's eyes flickered between the two of them before biting her lip, obviously uncomfortable with the sudden attitude changes. She hadn't known of Ciel's Underworld dealings; he had made sure to keep it a secret from her. She was probably just confused, but Ciel would not tolerate someone belittling the Queen even if she had already passed on. "I had not realized the topic was so sensitive," Edward continued. "It's just, rumors get around about you, and . . ."

"Ignore the rumors," Ciel spat. "Gossipers do nothing for your health."

A sudden thump on his leg had the demon child pausing, and he looked down to find Niam there, both hands gripping the fabric of his shorts. "Papa, won't you play with us?" he asked hopefully.

Lizzy was quick to second the request. She instantly jumped to her feet, banging into the table and very nearly causing the tray to topple over onto the ground. Before Ciel could blink she was standing behind him, tugging on his clothes and slipping her arms under his armpits to pull him to his feet. "What a lovely idea, Niam! Ciel, you really shouldn't sit here all afternoon talking with us, not when the whole reason we came was for you to meet the children! Sebastian, you too, you too!"

Frantically Ciel dug around for a protest or an excuse, _anything _to get out of doing something so childish. "B-but Lizzy, I can't let my guests go unattended—"

"Nonsense! This house was like my second home when you were still around! I'll just give Edward a tour of the place—if you don't mind, of course—while you and Sebastian enjoy yourselves. Come now, you can't always be so serious, you know. There are times when even adults must get a bit of playtime in. There you are, Niam! You kids play nice now, okay? We'll be right inside!"

It was safe to say that this was a situation Ciel had not expected to find himself in.

"Um, excuse me . . ." Isaiah spoke up, tugging on Sebastian's coattails curiously. "What can we call you? We don't have a name for you."

"Sebastian is perfectly fine," the demon stated, an angelic—not to mention extremely amused—smile gracing his face.

Niam's face scrunched up as he tried to repeat the name; Ciel couldn't resist a victorious smirk coupled with a triumphant glance at the failed attempts. "Se . . . bashan . . . nn. Too hard. Something else!"

"An acquaintance of ours calls him Sebby," Ciel offered docilely. "Why don't you call him that?"

And then, just for that one minute, Ciel had the wondrous feeling of _sweet revenge _running through his veins as Sebastian sent him a truly annoyed glare. That was Grelle's pet name, for sure. And it was one up for the Earl in their little game of cat and mouse. This time, the cat had lost its prey. Sebastian realized this; he glanced down at the children, sickeningly sweet smile still in place, and prepared to protest that name . . .

"Sebby!" Niam giggled. "Yes!"

With one last glare that promised murder later, Sebastian turned away from his Master. Ciel wasn't too concerned about it; chances were all it would amount to was some embarrassing teasing. It really was just a game to the two of them. And to Ciel, it was a momentary distraction from eternity.

Fingers slid in between his suddenly, and a girlish laugh alerted him to Charlotte. "So, then, what shall we play?"

"Hide and seek!" Isaiah suggested.

"Um . . ." Ciel muttered awkwardly. "I don't . . ."

"I'm afraid My Lord is unfamiliar with most of these games due to having asthma at a young age. You may have to teach him," Sebastian smoothly stated. Ciel would rather just sit and watch, but Sebastian seemed just as intent as the three kids at making sure he got in some running time. And when Sebastian was in on it, there was no getting out of it.

"So then, what's an easy one?" Charlotte mused. "It has to be something Papa can do, right?"

"London Bridge!" Niam suddenly yelled out . . .

And Ciel froze.

He was, of course, thankful that his memories of what had happened eventually came back. However, it wasn't the most pleasant thing to remember, and that . . . that _despicable _song always reminded him of the time Lizzy was kidnapped, and of that angel that stole everything from him. If there was a lullaby he could have honestly said he hated, it was this one. And to think there was a _game _based on it . . . it was utterly outrageous!

"Where . . . where did you learn that game?" he asked, trying not to let the fear of hearing that song again show in his voice.

"Daddy taught us," Isaiah proclaimed proudly. "We should play that one. It's fun!"

"Sebby, be the bridge with me. We're the tallest ones." Charlotte grabbed the butler's gloved hands and held them up high, impersonating a bridge. "Papa, here's how you play. We sing London Bridge, and then, if you're unlucky and you step under our arms, the bridge will fall on you! Okay?"

"Can I show him?"

"Go ahead, Niam."

The child beamed over at Ciel and then took a place next to Charlotte and Sebastian.

_London bridge is falling down . . ._

He wanted to stop watching. He wanted to turn around and run inside, where he wouldn't have to hear that terrifying song anymore. But instead all he could do was stand there, rooted to the spot as his butler obediently lifted his hands far above his head to form the bridge with the eldest child.

_Falling down, falling down . . ._

Isaiah decided to move first, walking underneath the outstretched arms with his smile still fully intact. His mouth moved with the words of the song, and as he cleared the "bridge" without it falling on him, he raised a triumphant fist into the air. Safe.

_London bridge is falling down . . ._

Niam knew what was coming for him; he waltzed right under the waiting arms as he continued to sing in his high-pitched, innocent voice. Sebastian and Charlotte dropped their arms at the same time. Niam was trapped in the open space between them, still giggling happily at the game. Trapped. Like . . .

_My Fair Lady. _

* * *

"You were quite a bit preoccupied while the children were playing this afternoon," Sebastian calmly observed. "What was on your mind?"

"That song," Ciel murmured, keeping his eyes carefully downcast as he threw his hat onto the bed. It had been well past nightfall before Lizzy had finally left, carrying a practically unconscious Niam and dragging her other two exhausted children behind her. To be frank, Ciel was just as tired as them, at least in a mental fashion. It had been a long day . . . longer than most. "I don't like it," he finished.

"It certainly is a horrible game," Sebastian agreed.

"Like you have room to talk." Off came the overcoat, followed by the undershirt. "Anyway, why were you staring at the smallest one like that?"

"The resemblance between the two of you is uncanny," he explained. "Moreover, what did you think of the father? Edward Childs?"

Ciel paused in the middle of unfastening his belt, eyes flickering over to his butler cautiously. "Besides the fact that I didn't like him? There was something odd about him. He knew too much. No one should have known that I worked directly under the Queen except our closest allies. I never told Elizabeth any of that. There was something in his eyes . . . no, I didn't trust him. At all. And I want to say that Lizzy isn't safe, but she's been with him for over fifteen years now, so I can't say much. Why are you asking?"

"The next time you meet him, make sure to let your new instincts take over," Sebastian told him instead. "You are right in not trusting him; however, I do not think the Madam is as safe as you think her to be."

"And the three children?"

"Oh, I would say that they are substantially safer than your former fiancé. Just be careful, eh?"

"You know something that I don't. You should just come out and say it. I'm not in the mood to be teased right now, and you know it." Ciel pulled on his nightshirt, buttoning it up with nimble fingers. "I want the house thoroughly cleaned tomorrow. I can still smell those God-awful flowers wherever I walk, and I know it isn't me."

"I am beginning to wonder if they smelled that way on purpose." The butler had taken the discarded clothes and replaced them in the wardrobe by now. His eyes settled on Ciel calmly, and the boy knew that the demon was in no mood to tease either. There was something serious in his expression . . . something that he had not been expecting. "Both Mr. Sutcliffe and Mr. Knox seemed very accustomed to the smell. Perhaps it is to keep lurkers away from the shop."

"You mean they might be hiding something there?"

"Well, if they are I am certain it is something that holds no relevance for us. The case of the contract you forged with me is a long-forgotten incident. They would not be trying to cover up something like that. What we are doing is digging up old memories and actions. Not modern ones."

"True . . . but even so, all of it is making my head hurt. Why can't it be easy?"

A rich chuckle rumbled out from Sebastian's chest, and Ciel blinked in astonishment as another one of those honest smiles emerged on the demon's face. "Haven't you learned already, Ciel? Anything that involves you can't be easy. It is simply not possible."

"Even so," he grumped. "It would be nice to catch a break just once."

"You might find it when we visit the Undertaker tomorrow."

Ciel nodded in relief at that statement. Without another word he climbed into his bed and pulled his covers over his body. He was all but ready to fall asleep at this stage, to ease the ache in his head. But . . .

"Sebastian?"

The demon, who had just about stepped outside, paused in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Is that . . . really what children are like? They were all smiling, and . . . I remember being like that before, but now those memories are fading."

"It's not like you to reflect on your past," Sebastian responded quietly.

"Wrong. It isn't like Earl Phantomhive to reflect on his past. I'm only Ciel Phantomhive . . . and I hate the way I'm living. All I have that's worth looking back on is my life with my parents."

"We will have to change that, then, won't we?" The light from the hallway reappeared; Ciel blinked for a moment before he realized that Sebastian had just walked back to the bed. "To tell you the truth, I am ashamed to have a master that does not have the will to go on living. It is pitiful. You say you have nothing to reflect on, but that means everything you have done to get this far is unimportant. Young Master, to be blunt . . . you should get your head out of your arse and start thinking straight again. Make the most out of what you do have. Those children play because they _can. _It isn't merely a rule for them to play. They will look back at those times when they grow older and they will remember them fondly, whether those times are good or bad. And as they do such things, so should you. Do you understand?"

"I don't need a lecture," Ciel pouted. Still, Sebastian was just trying to help. He realized this, and he wanted to change the way he was. It was just that when he thought of living for _eternity _with absolutely nothing to look forward to, he believed there was no point. Dejectedly he buried his face in the pillow they'd brought back with them. "I . . ."

He squeaked softly when Sebastian's face popped up in front of him. "Someday soon, Ciel Phantomhive, you're going to find out that not everyone hates the way you are."

The words were said with such a certainty that Ciel couldn't help but to believe them. He stared at Sebastian's face, trying to figure out just how the demon knew so well what things were going to be like. And for the first time, he had to wonder . . . Sebastian had been born a demon, but did he ever regret not having a human life? Were they alike in that aspect? He raised his head to ask the question, only to be forced back down by one gloved hand.

"Good night, Young Master," the Phantomhive butler whispered. "Tomorrow, I don't want to see you lingering in a past you'll never relive. Do you understand? Otherwise the second we break the contract, I will leave and not come back. Ever."

If nothing else struck what was left of Ciel's heart, then that certainly did. "Fine . . ." he sighed. "Sebastian?"

Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

". . . Good night."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," was the amused reply. "It won't be too long now . . ."

"For what?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with." Sebastian's hand, still on Ciel's head, stroked through his hair slowly.

And for the record, the little demon was far too tired to care about the odd statement at that point.

* * *

**(1) I was referring to my one-shot Basium here. It can be read separately or it can go along with this fic, either way. I'm using it at this point as a side story to this one. **

**(2) Queen Victoria died in 1901, about eight years before this story takes place.**

***strangles Ciel* Come on, you idiot, take a hint already! (And the readers are saying, "WTF, Shadow? You're the one writing this!") Seriously. Holy crap. 12,000 words for this chapter. XD And we're starting to get somewhere, neh? **

**So . . . which of the children is your favorite? I'd love to know. For no reason in particular. . *is being mysterious* **

**Thank you for reading! And, uh . . . I want to get these chapters out faster than monthly, really I do. Here's to hoping? And thanks for waiting so long for this. **

**~Shadow**


	5. Chapter Four: Take by Force

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the property of Toboso Yana**

**Chapter Warning: There is a . . . VERY detailed kissing scene in this chapter. I couldn't help myself. (The readers are thinking: Good God, Shadow, it's about time you got to some of the M-rated stuff…)**

**Chapter Four: Take by Force**

* * *

If there was one thing Ciel thought he would never understand, it was how eccentric Undertaker always proved to be. He found it quite odd, then, when he realized that the former mortician was the presence in his past life he missed the most. There was something about the ancient Death God that never failed to amuse him. For that very reason he always chose to hide his pleasure every time he met the man under his mask of cold indifference. Perhaps Sebastian knew that under his shield he was busy holding down peals of childish laughter, but he would keep a hold of that secret from Undertaker down to the grave.

The carriage ride over to London's center was spent in relative silence, other than a comment from Sebastian about his choice in clothing—green this time—and a snide retort to counter it. Ciel had chosen not to wear the eye patch; Undertaker had known about the contract from the beginning, and as such there was no need to hinder his eyesight. Rather, he was prepared to face the fact that the Death God would know what he had become . . . and he didn't mind at all. It would come as a bit of a relief to alert someone else to his true nature.

"You're in a good mood this morning," Sebastian noted while Ciel hopped down from the carriage. "Does it have anything to do with breaking the contract, or are you merely pleased to visit Undertaker?"

"A bit of both, I suppose. Goodness knows I need a good mental laugh. As for the contract . . . Undertaker was the closest person to my father. If anyone has some sort of information for us, it would obviously be him. I am just being hopeful."

"On top of that," Sebastian pointed out, "Undertaker has a very keen eye. If your father had done anything to invoke the wrath of an angel, the Death God would spot it almost instantly."

"Do you have a joke prepared?"

"I have a distinct feeling that a joke shall not be necessary today. Regardless, I have several jokes up my sleeve to present Undertaker with."

"Good." Ciel turned to face the shop they'd disembarked in front of . . .

Sweets. The bane of his existence. Ciel would have been fine, perhaps, if it had been a small shop nestled between larger buildings . . . but this was no shop. No, M.E.L.T. more likely represented a candy emporium, and Ciel instantly loathed it. _Oh_, how he craved to taste sugary sweets once more. This place . . . it was taunting him, showing him all sorts of unhealthy pieces of heaven—or more likely hell—that he would never be able to taste.

"Sebastian," he said lowly. "If I didn't know any better, I would say he's insulting me. This is torture."

"Nonsense, Young Master. If that were the case, then likely the window display would hold—"

"_Cake_," Ciel moaned, pressing his fingers up against the window to better look at the extravagant pastry before him. It looked almost as good as Sebastian's . . .

"Really now," Sebastian sighed, pressing one gloved hand to his forehead. "It is just a human treat—"

"Not _just_," the child spat back vehemently. "Don't you see, it's a masterpiece! The way it looks, the way it smells, the way it _tastes_ . . . the person who invented such a thing is a genius. I—don't look at me like that!" Ciel turned away from the window to pout at his butler. "It's no different than your sick fascination with cats."

"Cats," the butler proclaimed, "have absolutely nothing to do with cakes. Cats are sweet—"

"So are cakes."

"—generous—"

"The mere _existence _of cakes makes them generous."

"—and caring, whereas your cakes only exist to be destroyed. Honestly, must you have such a mundane addiction?"

"Cats make me sneeze, so that automatically makes for a ridiculous obsession." He whirled back towards the window, intent upon gazing at the "work of art" for awhile longer. "Besides, cake looks better. And if one makes it the right way, then—_aaaagh!_" Ciel squeaked, jumping backwards into Sebastian's chest.

There, face pressed against the windowpane with an atrocious grin present, was Undertaker.

"That was a new reaction," Sebastian chuckled. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ciel's shoulders. "I suppose this takes care of finding him."

"Let go of me!" Ciel hissed, hastily ducking out of the demon's grasp. "Why the hell are you laughing? That wasn't funny at all!"

"Oh, I don't know . . . he thought it was worth a few laughs, I think . . ."

Undertaker had fallen to the floor of the display, one arm outstretched with his pounding down over and over, drool hanging out of the side of his mouth, and his leg . . .

"He fell into the cake!" Ciel cried out in distress.

"Thank goodness it was the cake . . ."

"Bastard!" The former Earl pulled completely away from Sebastian's grasp and pushed open the front door. Ironically enough, even though anger was the emotion emblazoned on his face, all he really felt was a crazed sense of amusement. He hadn't felt this happy in _years_ . . . it made him a bit annoyed that a senile old Death God was all it took to lighten his mood.

However. Undertaker had destroyed that beautiful cake . . . and he was going to _pay._

Ciel glanced around curiously—and more than a bit lustfully—at his surroundings. M.E.L.T. was _huge_ . . . much bigger than it had looked on the outside. There was a bakery on his left, containing dozens of cakes on display behind glass. On his right were shelves rising to three times his height, all stocked with different types of candy. The walls were painted bubblegum pink; Ciel could hardly stand to look at them for more than a minute. There was a spiraling staircase leading up to a second floor not visible from where he was.

In total, it was every child's sugary sweet dream.

"Good morning, Earl," Undertaker giggled from behind. Bits of cake hung from the mortician's silver hair and his clothes—which, Ciel noted, were _not_ the same as the ones he'd worn in the funeral shop. "What a pleasure to see both of your eyes."

"I'm not an Earl anymore," he replied nonchalantly.

"Ah, but you 'died' as an Earl, and therefore you will always be an Earl, won't you?"

"Your insight is astoundingly solid today." Sebastian took his place behind Ciel, the ever-present smirk dominating his face.

"Your clothes say otherwise, though," Ciel added sarcastically. For, after all, the Undertaker was dressed in _pink_. From the elegant(?) suit to the dough-covered, frilly apron, everything was the same ghastly color as the walls.

"It comes with the job, dear Earl," the Death God chuckled. "Well? What do you think of the shop, eh?"

At this, the child pouted unhappily. "It would be better if it were edible."

"Ah, but that is what the second floor is for." Undertaker bent down and whispered into his ear. "You see, that floor is reserved for 'special' customers. Would you like to try my wares, esteemed noble?"

"Actually, we came with the intent to talk to—"

"There's no sense in talking with an empty stomach, is there? Come, come, I must give a proper welcome to my favorite guest. After all . . . it has been quite awhile, has it not?"

"It's only been awhile because you had to disappear right after everything happened!" Ciel protested, only to realize that Undertaker was no longer beside them. He growled in frustration and ran to close the ten-foot gap that separated them. "Why did you move shops?"

"I can't stay in the same place forever, of course." There was a large padlock at the bottom of the stairs to block entry. Undertaker produced a key from beneath his hat—which was just as pink as the rest of his outfit—and inserted it into the lock while he talked. "The people in the surface world would grow wary. I change occupations every ten years or so."

"Then why are Mr. Sutcliffe and Mr. Knox at your old funeral shop? And _how,_ I ask, do you obtain information on supernatural activities in a _candy _shop?"

"People gossip no matter where you are," was the simple reply. "Too many questions will make that brain of yours fall apart, little Earl. It's best not to ask too many."

Ciel reluctantly fell silent after that statement, but only because he knew that he would have a better chance at getting answers out of the Death God once they were upstairs. For the time being, he and Sebastian fell into step behind Undertaker and began climbing up the spiraling stair case. From his vantage point above the first floor, he could see that M.E.L.T. was a very popular store among London's middle and upper classes. He turned to the shelves, examining some of the brands present. Quite a few of them came from expensive companies, including . . .

"Funtom?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. "But I closed down the factories . . ."

"Oh?" The Undertaker turned around briefly to grace Ciel with another signature grin. "One of your servants reopened just one factory two years ago. The goofy maid, it was. There's only one factory so the products are quite expensive. However . . . children seemed very happy to have the Funtom candies back. Apparently their parents took the liberty of telling stories about the famous sweets. What say you, Earl?"

"Why did Meirin do something like that?" he breathed. It wasn't that he didn't like it, because seeing his candies again made him practically ecstatic. He just couldn't understand why someone would want to keep the company going again. And _Meirin_, of all people . . .

"I do believe it had something to do with keeping your 'memory' alive. Poor dear, thinking you were dead all this time." The mortician turned back around to continue his ascent up the stairs.

"Young Master," Sebastian spoke up. "Are you perhaps wondering why it was Meirin that did such a thing? I too am a bit shocked. But she always was fond of you in a motherly sense. She may have wanted something of you to live on . . . so that you would be remembered as a part of London."

"I should have told her that all I wanted to do was disappear," Ciel sighed. "But I don't mind, I suppose. At least it is a good side of me that will be remembered. After all, I always seemed to be the notorious 'bad guy' of the underworld."

"You were always proud of that, too," Sebastian recalled with slight disdain. "Whatever happened to that frame of mind? I never did want your soul for good deeds . . ."

"I'm not the same as I was back then, Sebastian. Remember that."

Ciel decided to ignore the "What a pity" that came from his butler's mouth just after.

A scent that Ciel was far from used to assaulted his nose the second they hit the landing of the upstairs floor. It was a smell that he now compared to meals, to humans, and most of all, to Sebastian. The area was decorated in much the same manner as the first floor with the exception of the walls being blue instead of pink. There were less shelves as well, though they held just as many products if not more. And _still_, that smell . . .

"Souls?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Ah, you've been trained well," Undertaker smirked, tapping his nose playfully. "You're quite right. This candy has an extra ingredient: slices of human souls. Only very skilled and . . . _qualified _manufacturers produce this type of sweet. Would you and your butler like to try a piece?"

"I am quite curious to try one myself," Sebastian conceded, and once he had agreed, Ciel felt it only prudent that he do the same.

A pale, long-nailed hand snaked forward with two identical candies—wrapped in unmarked plastic—and offered them up. Ciel took his with some trepidation, but he knew that Sebastian would wait for him to try it first out of respect. Reluctantly he pulled off the wrapper and placed the chocolate-colored candy in his mouth.

It _was _chocolate. Sweet, heavy, and filled with a flavor so captivating it was a wonder he hadn't given in years ago. Under that was the taste of the soul, and though he didn't want to admit it, it tasted just as good. Even as the candy melted in his mouth, he was already craving another piece.

"If I may ask a question," Sebastian announced. "How do the manufacturers slice the soul so cleanly? It tastes like it is fully intact."

"That's something you would have to ask them. I merely sell them. Now. You have something to talk to me about, Earl? Otherwise you wouldn't have gone out of your way to find me."

"Is there somewhere more private to speak? This is a bit of a personal matter."

"No one has a key to this floor except me." Undertaker took a seat on top of a stack of boxes, much to Ciel's annoyance. "I conduct all private matters in this room. No one else will hear."

"It is fine, Young Master," Sebastian assured. "If someone is listening in I will alert you immediately."

"Fine," he huffed. Slowly he took a seat on another—much smaller—stack of boxes. "Undertaker, how well did you know my parents before they passed on?"

"Oh? You're only now digging up the events of the past?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"My, it appears demons _are _quite a bit impatient . . . as you wish. Rachel Phantomhive I met on occasion; she hardly knew of the underworld and was rarely brought along. Vincent Phantomhive . . . you could say I was a very close friend to him. He felt it necessary to confide in me when he thought his life was in danger."

"Did you ever notice anything odd about them? Something that they would hide from me?"

Undertaker leaned forward, and though his eyes weren't visible beneath the thick fringe of silver hair, Ciel was sure the man was staring him down. "Just what are you after, Earl? It isn't like you to disturb your parents' past."

There was no getting around it, then. Ciel sucked in a slow breath before replying. "I'm trying to sever the contract between Sebastian and me."

"And what, pray tell, does that have to do with two dead nobles?"

"Sebastian."

Wordlessly the butler withdrew the framed portrait from his front pocket and passed it to the mortician. As he did Ciel caught a glimpse of the hidden contract symbol thanks to passing through the light of a window. The boy, for one, did not make it a priority to look at his contracted eye that often; the blunt shape of it made him flinch. He _hated _the way it looked. Never once did he think he would like to make such a contract with anyone. He would never fall that low . . .

Even if he had done worse as a human than he did now as a monster.

The Undertaker accepted the photo silently. Ciel expected it to take the Death God a moment to find the hidden symbol, but the supernatural man instantly started cackling. "Pretty sharp, aren't you, Earl? It's like you to find a needle in a haystack."

"The reason I'm asking about my parents is because of that. Undertaker, is it possible to form a contract with an angel?"

"Only with fallen angels, which are in all actuality just demons with a different appearance."

Ciel frowned and glanced back at his butler. "I thought all demons were fallen angels."

"There are four different types of demons," Sebastian supplied. "The fallen angels, such as Ash, are the least powerful in the demon world with the exception of Satan. Then there are half-demons, born from a human and a Pureblood. Pureblood demons are second-most powerful and are born from two full demons. And lastly, Young Master, are the Once-Humans, which is what you are. Satan considers your kind the most powerful because your minds are not focused on carnal desires all the time. You act on calm emotions. Furthermore, a Once-Human can only be created through a contract, so they are very rare. There are only two in existence at the moment."

"Stop making it sound like you're boasting about what I am. It's disgusting."

"But My Lord," the butler replied jovially, "as a human you would be proud to come out on a high pedestal. Has that changed?"

He gritted his teeth angrily and jerked his head away. Sebastian _always _made a point to remind him of what he was like as a human, and he _hated _it. He hated it so much, because he _knew _he hadn't been this miserable as a human. He would have had some sick satisfaction at being more powerful than Sebastian. But now . . . now he hated all of it. he didn't want to be an all-powerful demon in this world. He just wanted to be normal again.

He had to wonder why his butler kept bringing up his humanity, however. He knew that Sebastian regretted not being able to eat his soul, but he also knew that the demon wasn't bitter or upset about it anymore. Maybe he was just upset about Ciel's attitude towards the world and himself. Chances were, he was trying to remind Ciel about his old life in the hopes that he would be able to return to it.

It wouldn't happen. Ciel no longer wanted to be a righteous king. He wanted someone else to lead him, to let him know that it was alright to do all of these things. Rather than dictator, he wanted to be dictated. And more than anything, he wanted Sebastian to be the one to do it. it was a far-fetched dream; as soon as the contract was broken, Sebastian would leave him, and he wouldn't be coming back. He doubted anyone would want to stay with someone as pitiful as him.

And he certainly didn't blame them.

"However, little Earl," Undertaker announced, "this contract was not made by a fallen angel."

Ciel jerked out of his seat in disbelief; there was no way! "That's . . . impossible, Ash was a fallen angel and he . . . he . . . killed my parents! It has to be him! It makes sense that way; my parents wouldn't . . ."

"There's no sense in getting upset over the truth of things, Earl. If you would calm down, I can explain how I know this."

Sebastian placed his hands on Ciel's shoulders, gently guiding the boy back to his seat. Ciel closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to calm the anger and frustration that had overtaken his mind. He'd been so _sure_ . . . he'd thought for certain that his parents—or, at least one of them—had formed a contract with the fallen angel, and that somehow Ash had broken the contract in order to kill them. If that was the case . . .

"The symbol," Undertaker finally began, "differs based on what type of a demon made it. The more complex it is, the more powerful the demon is. The weakest of the demons—the fallen angels, of course—has a very simple design, usually just a circle with an elegant line through the middle. The contract symbol here is much more complex and a lot like the one you have. That means that the demon this contract belongs to is a Pureblood. The fact that it is on this photo means that he likes to mark his property and let them know that they are his. He's probably not kindhearted like your dear butler there is."

"Kindhearted?" Sebastian repeated indignantly.

"But . . ." Ciel started slowly, "there was no sign of that demon the entire time we were dealing with the fallen angel. Why are we only now hearing about him?"

"I believe, little Earl, that this demon didn't want you to know about him. I have a suspicion . . . that someone forcefully broke this contract so that your fallen angel could successfully murder Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive." Undertaker placed the photo on the floor and stood. "There is more to the story than you know about."

Ciel rose to his feet as well, mouth pushed into an irritated line. "Thank you for your time," he tersely stated. "Sebastian, let's go."

"Ah, Earl! Would you like to take some candy with you? Your visit was payment enough for a box or two."

Well. There was no harm in accepting a few of the candies from the mortician, even if he'd said nothing to substantially help Ciel. "Yes, thank you," he consented softly.

"Also, Earl . . ." Undertaker bent down next to his ear again. "The information I gave you is not hopeless. What would you have done if the fallen angel was the one who broke the contract? After all, you can't consult the dead . . ."

And that, perhaps, was the most frustrating part of it all.

I'm going ahead," he called back to Sebastian. "Undertaker, I thank you for your time and for the gift, but I am afraid I can't stay any longer."

"Visit again!" the Death God called jovially. "I'm sure I'll have better information for you next time!"

"Is that a hint?" Ciel asked slowly, and without turning around to face the man.

"Once again, little Earl, you are impeccably sharp."

"Whatever." Ciel left then, unwilling to dig up more information he didn't want to know for the time being. As a matter of fact, he was all too glad to step out of the room with the blue walls, even if it meant returning to the pink ones. At least the pink was _friendly_, not depressing . . .

He felt like hitting something, and that in itself was odd. He had no _reason _to be angry; it wasn't his parents' fault the contract had been broken by someone other than the fallen angel. He was, in fact, angry at no one in particular. And he needed to fix that before he got so mad that he marched over to the palace to punch His Majesty King Edward in the face.

He climbed into the waiting carriage with a scowl on his face. _Damn _Undertaker for ruining what could have been a nice day. He didn't know why he ever thought the mortician would cheer him up. More than that . . . _sure_, they had been given new information on breaking the contract, but it didn't help them in the least! He could almost say it had been a bad idea to come in the first place.

"My, what a perfectly sour expression, Young Master." The carriage dipped down as Sebastian climbed in, balancing two boxes of wrapped candies in his right hand. "Shouldn't you be happier? You have finally obtained a lead for breaking—"

"It's not a lead, damn it!" he hissed. Furiously he rammed his fist into the side of the compartment, nearly splintering the wooden paneling. "It's a dead end! How the hell are we supposed to find a third party we've never even heard of before? They'll be long gone by now, or dead like Claude, and we'll never find the answer. It's impossible to move on from this point!"

"That may be so, but that is no reason for you to be so upset. Something will come along. We have an eternity to figure it out."

"No we don't! I might as hell give up if it's going to take until the end of time to find the answer. Sebastian, the point is to give you back your freedom. Everything is pointless if I can't—"

"Young Master."

Ciel blinked in surprise; Sebastian had placed his hand over the one that still rested on the paneling. The other hand was cupping the boy's face, fingers and thumb held on either cheek as his head was yanked to face his companion. The candies lay discarded on the bench opposite, having been flung haphazardly out of the butler's grasp. It had, in fact, shut him up quite effectively. Not to mention that Sebastian's face was _way _too close to his own . . .

"To be completely honest, _Ciel_, sometimes I think I would love to bash your face into a wall," the butler began irritably. "As a human, you would have dismissed this to be a road block, not a dead end. Your attitude these days is unacceptable. You are going to live forever, so you may as well get used to it. I, for one, would not like to live through an eternity wallowing in my own grief. Get. A. Life."

"But I don't—"

"Shut up."

Ciel squeaked and jerked his nervous eyes away from glaring burgundy ones.

"When you were a human, I admit that I admired you for your strength," Sebastian continued. "There was no other mortal quite like you. Once you had become a demon, I expected you to carry on those attributes. Instead, you became _this _. . . the thing I hate most about humans. You are ignorant—not in the way you were before—and self-obsessed. Did you even _think _to ask what my opinion was about everything you're doing?"

"No," he whispered. "Well, I did, but then I thought . . ."

"You thought I wanted this? You assumed?" The butler tightened his grasp on Ciel's hand. "I have dropped countless hints alerting you to both my opinion on this matter and my opinion on you in general. You have not picked up on any of them, so I believe that I will _force _you to notice. Ciel, I like you."

The child bit his lip in annoyance. "You _like _me? You've always made it blatantly clear that you hated my every action."

Sebastian groaned, eyes narrowing into annoyed slits. "And _again _my ignorant master misinterprets the meaning behind my words. Very well; I shall have to show you. If this doesn't get through your brainless head then I will think it's hopeless."

"Show me what?" Ciel asked guardedly. "I don't trust that you'll—mmph!"

Sebastian . . . Sebastian was _kissing _him. The Earl froze, his body slumping back against the seat cushion on its own, because there was a mouth on top of his, pushing insistently and with a purpose. He was too shocked to respond—hell, his brain could hardly function enough to figure out what was going on! The demon's lips were soft but dominating, as if they could convey emotions just with a small movement. And finally, _finally_, it clicked: the reason why Sebastian was such a kindhearted demon. It wasn't because of his nature, because to anyone else he was as demon-like as one could get. It was because he was . . .

"I . . ." he stuttered uselessly once Sebastian freed his mouth. "You . . . you're . . ."

"I _like _you, Ciel," the butler announced with emphasis. "I am not comfortable with being sentimental, but if that is what it takes to spell it out for you, then I will do it. You are the one human I could not bear to kill out of all my contracts, even if I did not have the opportunity. Yours was the soul that appealed to me the most. And I will not let you continue acting like you hate yourself."

"I don't want to burden you any longer," Ciel insisted weakly. "You can't _possibly _like being chained to me . . ."

"Foolishness. You have done nothing but make my life entertaining." Sebastian released his hold on the boy's face, but he let his fingers drift down his cheek in a way that made Ciel shudder. "You continue to insist that we are equals now despite the contract, so I am going to say something that is out of boundaries for a mere servant. You are an idiot for assuming I wanted my freedom back. If I had wanted out I would have done so a long time ago. Do you understand?"

"You forgot to tell the driver where to to," was the only reasonable response Ciel could think of at that particular time.

And after that, Sebastian looked like he wanted to murder a certain someone . . .

* * *

There was no plausible way to just accept what Sebastian had done, and both of them knew it. The Phantomhive demon had hardly breathed a word to his servant after the kiss; as soon as they arrived back at the mansion he had rushed upstairs to his bedroom. He was there now, curled into a fetal position on his bed, his favorite pillow squeezed up against his chest. Sebastian had not come in at all, not in the several hours that Ciel had stayed there, and for that he was grateful. He didn't think he wanted to see his butler's smirking face for awhile yet.

He didn't _understand_. Sebastian should hate him for keeping him locked up, not _like _him. Granted, he wasn't the one that had chained them together in the first place—_damn _that Alois!—but it was his fault he hadn't done anything about it yet. Now Sebastian was insinuating that he didn't want the contract to be broken at all, and it left Ciel in shambles. He didn't know what to do, what to think . . . all he knew was that he had to figure something out eventually, and the chances were that he wouldn't like it whichever way he went.

Oddly enough, however, it was the issue of that kiss that really kept Ciel's mind enraptured. He didn't feel repulsed at all by the gesture, even given the circumstances: that they were both male and that he was still, in all reality, just a child. Instead, the kiss had brought into light the possibility that maybe Ciel had felt the same about his butler this entire time. That would explain the ache in his chest whenever he thought about Sebastian leaving his side, or the sadness he felt at knowing the demon would never want to stay with him. His attitude lately hadn't helped things in the slightest, apparently.

Ciel knew that the way he'd been acting wasn't like him. Sebastian was by all means right; he'd become just like a poor commoner in the way he went about things. He didn't _want _to act so foolishly. He just felt like he'd fallen into a rut he couldn't get out of. When he was a human, he'd _known _he was diving head-first into hell, and he had been proud of it. Now that he was experiencing hell—he was a _part _of it—he didn't think he could sink any lower. He didn't want to live through eternity alone. That was the most frightening prospect of them all.

But . . . because of that kiss . . . what if, for some unexplainable reason, Sebastian liked him enough to stay with him? Or at least to visit. Either option was better than being alone, but all the same, Ciel didn't want to get his hopes up. That kiss . . . had it only been meant to shut him up? He wouldn't put it past Sebastian to do something as cruel as that.

Still . . .

Slowly, Ciel raised his hand and brushed his fingers against his lips.

"Young Master, have you finished sulking?" Sebastian called from the doorway. "It is time for you to take your bath, if you still wish for one."

"I wasn't sulking," he replied, voice lacking any real sense of conviction to back his words up.

"Oh?"

"I was just thinking. You can come in and get the bath ready."

The door swung open soundlessly. Ciel did not look up, but he did shift his body out of the ball and then rolled onto his stomach. It was just as well that the butler had disturbed him; he dreaded to think of where his thoughts would have drifted if he hadn't.

Sebastian didn't head for the bath room like Ciel had expected him to. Instead he came to stand beside the bed, casting his dark shadow over the white bed covers. "Equals?" he questioned slowly, like he was testing the waters.

"Equals," Ciel agreed guardedly. "Why?"

"Because," the older demon proclaimed, "I am postponing your bath. You are going to take a walk with me."

"A walk? In London, at night? That's a bit dangerous, don't you think?"

"Ciel, are you forgetting what we are? We are the ones that make nights dangerous. Quite obviously there is nothing to fear." Sebastian paused. "Unless, of course, you have suddenly factored me in with your group of dangerous people. . ."

"Of course not," Ciel snorted, finally raising his head to look at the butler. "I would be stupid to fear someone that has saved my life more times than I can count."

"That is because all you are ever good at is getting captured," came the sage reply. Sebastian held out a hand—ungloved, Ciel noted with a jolt—and gave one of his rare, honest smiles.

Just for one small, fleeting moment, Ciel wanted to return that smile. But he didn't, and instead he placed his hand into Sebastian's, marveling at the feel of real skin instead of fabric. "At least it got our targets captured too," he replied matter-of-factly.

"As always, Young Master, you are correct."

"I do try," he sighed offhandedly. "Are we going or not? If we wait any longer the midnight bells might chime."

"Ah. Yes."

* * *

Sebastian led them down a street Ciel had rarely seen, filled with quiet shops and a few other townhouses. It was nearing fall, and the air was as frigid as it might have been during a winter day in London; Ciel had tucked himself into a fur-lined coat to keep himself warm. To the boy's slight embarrassment, the older demon still held his hand . . . though he had to admit that it was warm and comforting where it was. Sebastian was acting different than usual . . . not as condescending or rude. There was something kind in his face that Ciel had never seen before. He had always thought that emotions like that were untouchable for demons.

"You want to talk to me about something, don't you?" Ciel finally asked, breaking the surrounding silence.

Sebastian slowed their pace as he turned his head towards the boy. Ciel realized then that while his face looked kind, his eyes were filled with solemnity. Whatever he had to say would be something the Earl probably wouldn't like. "What do you think is going to happen if you can break the contract? Answer honestly."

"You wouldn't be happy with my answer," he responded vaguely. He stopped walking in front of one of the townhouses. The view he received through a living room window could only be described as loving. He didn't recognize the family—it _had _been twenty years—but the parents playing with their little son in the parlor had Ciel aching for that same experience.

"You're making things worse by watching them."

"I know." And yet he didn't move away, despite that.

"Even with it not making me happy, I want to hear your answer. And I'm not going to get it if you keep watching this house."

"They just . . . look so happy. And I can't help wondering how different I would be now if I had been raised that way."

Sebastian sighed and yanked on Ciel's hand; he stumbled away from the townhouse reluctantly. "If that had happened, I never would have wanted your soul, Young Master. You would have been just like all the other humans: concerned with the matters of the world."

"Isn't that a good thing?" he snorted. "Having a soul that demons would fight over is a little degrading, not to mention embarrassing."

"Are you avoiding my question now?"

Ciel dropped his eyes to the ground to watch his boot-clad feet. "I admit I was trying to. Sebastian, I . . . if I can break the contract, I believe that you will leave and return to contracting souls like you always did before. And I . . . I'll be left alone for the rest of eternity."

The hand wrapped around Ciel's tightened into a vice-like grip.

"Ah, Sebastian, let go, you're squeezing too tight! I _told _you that you wouldn't like my answer—"

"Be quiet for a minute." The butler dragged him off unceremoniously towards a bench set in front of a quaint book shop. Once he saw it, Ciel frowned and moved to sit down, but apparently Sebastian had other ideas; a second later the child found himself sitting not on the bench, but on his servant's lap.

"Sebastian!" he yelped, "what are you doing? This is not appropriate, and with a _servant_, to top it off—"

"Oh? But I thought you had just said we were equals now . . ."

"But this _position_!"

"Is it because it is embarrassing, then? Or because you are afraid someone is going to see you like this? Either way . . . you are a demon, Ciel. You should learn to take some risks, don't you think?"

"Demon or not, it's still awkward," he griped. "I wish you would stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop thinking like one," Sebastian responded bluntly.

". . . What?"

"You heard correctly. Your reasoning behind the contract breaking is foolish, to say the least. If you were an adult you would not be thinking of how you might be alone. You would be thinking of a way to move past that drawback."

With a soft sigh he stopped squirming; it was unlikely he could move away from Sebastian at this stage anyway. "Sebastian, I . . . it may be childish and foolish, but think for just a moment. Why _would _I want to be alone? After what happened back then . . ."

"Are you _still _concerned about the occultists? Ciel, they are dead; you've gotten your revenge. What is there to be worried abo—"

"It's not that!" He buried his face in his hands, trusting his butler to keep his body upright. Just _thinking _about it was horrifying enough. "Those months I spent there . . . in that cage, in the dark . . . I was all alone, Sebastian! And it was the most horrifying thing ever, because I thought for certain that no one was going to save me. I don't want to go through that again!"

Silence met his outburst. Ciel sucked in an annoyed breath; _he _didn't think it was a foolish reason. Sebastian had never gone through something like that, because he'd never _had _to worry about dying alone. He'd been a demon all his life, so . . .

"Ciel."

The boy raised his head slowly, nervously . . . he _knew _that tone. He didn't like it.

Sebastian jerked Ciel's body around in one swift movement. To say that the child was shocked when he found himself straddling his butler on the bench was an understatement. He gasped and tried to squirm out of the position, only for his waist to be grabbed by a pair of strong arms. "This looks wrong!" he protested.

"This is perfectly fine with me," Sebastian told him serenely. "Young Master, I am going to make a promise with you. If I ever do leave your side after the contract is broken, then I will always come to you if you have need of me. I do promise you. By the moon."

"Grelle Sutcliffe mentioned something about that before," Ciel huffed. "The moon waxes and wanes. It is not constant. How can you keep a promise that changes like the moon?"

Sebastian chuckled at that, and his eyes moved to focus on Ciel with a fervent intent. "Grelle only tends to look at one side of things. I swear on the moon because it is always there to watch over you, even if you cannot see it. Will you accept that explanation?"

"I suppose," he scoffed. "Since obviously you cannot swear on your life."

The black-haired demon raised an eyebrow. "I am alive, am I not? I have a life, even if it is not a mortal's."

"You don't have a beating heart."

"Perhaps not. But I am here in the middle of London, talking to you . . . and that, I think, merits that I have a life of my own, as do you."

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Demons _don't _have beating hearts. Right?"

"Of course."

"So why . . . why does my heart still beat?"

Sebastian blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Literally, I . . . um." Ciel wanted to show the butler what he meant, but the thought of doing what he needed to was far more than just embarrassing. Finally he pulled one of Sebastian's hands away from its hold on his waist and pulled it up until the man's fingers were splayed over his small chest. Awkward, yes, but it would get the point across. "I know this doesn't have anything to do with the contract, but as soon as you said that, I realized. My heart has never once stopped beating since I became . . . like this. Is that odd?"

The raven-haired demon frowned. "I do not rightly know, Young Master. You see, you are the only Once-Human I have met, so I do not know what the attributes are like for you. It might very well be normal." The hand moved back to Ciel's waist. "Now. Will you believe that I can hold to that promise I made?"

"I . . . will believe it when I see it happen. Is that answer good enough for now?"

"Only if you console me with a kiss—"

_Smack!_

"I," he hissed angrily, "am not _gay_. Nor would I support doing physical things with a pedophile such as you. Where would you get off on the idea that—"

"It isn't like the Young Master to lie to me so blatantly," Sebastian announced. He raised his hand to the cheek Ciel had just slapped, derisive smile still firmly in place. "You made no move to reject my advance earlier, and you are averting your eyes from me. I have been with you long enough to notice these things. Are you telling me that you have not once considered that you may have liked someone more than you did your fiancé?"

Ciel ground his teeth together uncomfortably. Sebastian had _always _been too observant; there was no way he could find a loophole in answering a question like that. Rather than answering, he lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Sebastian knew he had never liked Elizabeth, not in _that _way. He could never picture himself doing improper things with her, or raising a child that they had created. He had never considered that he may have liked a man, but only because it was something in his society that never got mentioned. And as for the subject in question . . . he didn't _know_. Perhaps it was something he would understand in time, or he would come to terms with if he had help. For the moment, he didn't even want to _acknowledge _those feelings. Especially not when Sebastian would probably leave him even if he _did _like him. He couldn't stand getting his heart broken on top of everything else.

"Either way," the butler breathed into his ear, "I am going to demand payback for a violent gesture that was just proven unnecessary."

"What?" Ciel jerked his head back up, his nose very nearly colliding with Sebastian's forehead. "It wasn't unnecessary; I still mean what I did! You deserved it!"

"All the more reason to punish you for it."

So for the second time that day, the demon captured his lips, pressing against him with that same intensity. It didn't help that the way they were sitting was provocative enough, what with one of Sebastian's arms now circled around his waist. He felt like he was going to fall off even with Sebastian's support, though, and so he slowly kneaded his fingers into the front of his butler's jacket . . .

And he didn't pull away.

There was something different the second time, however. This kiss was more forceful, more powerful . . . Ciel doubted that he could pull away from it even if he tried. Sebastian was making a point . . . he might have even been trying to _force _the Earl to like it. he wasn't surprised; demons, he figured, were natural sadists, and probably enjoyed proving just how dominant they could be.

Teeth bit his bottom lip—not too harshly to break the skin, but enough to make him jump—and he gasped, mouth opening before he could think of any consequences to this action. But then something warm and slippery slid its way past his lips and into his mouth. he made a sound of protest, but to his embarrassment it sounded more like a moan, and he felt Sebastian victoriously smile against him.

The slippery object—Sebastian's tongue, he knew once he had time to think—brushed against his teeth, slid over the roof of his mouth, and then finally came into contact with Ciel's own tongue. When the longer muscle wrapped around his, he panicked, grabbing fiercely at Sebastian's jacket in an attempt to make him stop. It was _weird_, and it was too much all at once. He couldn't handle this sort of thing, especially not when he didn't know what was going on.

Sebastian made no move to stop, to his dismay. Instead he sucked Ciel's tongue into his larger mouth, and the boy's eyes popped wide open in shock. This was . . . it was _disgusting_, and wet, and hot, and . . . somehow, in the back of his mind, he thought it could become something comforting. For the first time he took initiative, moving his tongue around curiously to explore the interior of the cavern he had been welcomed into.

Sebastian didn't let him do that for long; after just a moment, the demon sucked in hard, and Ciel could have sworn that he had just reached the back of his throat. He made another sound: this time it was a _real _moan, and not a protest against what was happening. It wasn't weird anymore, it felt good, and he decided that being prideful wouldn't help anything in this situation. He wasn't about to deny that this could make him happy.

The demon's tongue began thrusting in and out of Ciel's mouth, again with a force that bordered on abusive. The sensation proved to be too much for the boy; he frantically moved his hands to wrap them around Sebastian's neck and fisted the rumpled neck-collar into his shaking fingers. It was weird, because their tongues were sliding against each other in a way that stimulated an unnatural heat inside of his body. It was almost uncomfortable . . .

It all stopped the second he began to squirm on Sebastian's lap, the heat becoming almost unbearable. The demon immediately pulled away, leaving Ciel gasping for air and clinging to him while he tried to collect his senses. For the oddest reason, such an extreme action had lowered the number of questions flitting through the child's mind. He still didn't fully believe that Sebastian liked him as much as he kept claiming, but he knew for certain now: he probably had always liked Sebastian in _that _sort of a way.

"I think," the butler stated calmly, "that we have gone quite far enough for one day. Shall we retire back to the townhouse, Young Master?"

"Y-yes," he managed weakly. "I would like to take my bath and retire for the night."

"Would you like me to—"

"No. No, I can wash myself tonight, thank you." Ciel awkwardly climbed off of Sebastian's lap. He noted the soft look of disappointment in the elder demon's eyes, but he didn't think he could deal with another event like that at the current moment, and so he didn't change his mind.

And yet, to soften the blow of rejection, Ciel couldn't help but to grab Sebastian's hand to hold on the walk home.

* * *

It was a quite surprising event. Neither of them had expected the phone in the hall to ring loudly through the house, rousing Ciel from what had possibly been the best night's sleep he'd acquired in decades. He had crawled out of bed to listen in . . .

Lizzy's excuse was that the children wanted their "papa" to come and play with them, but Ciel suspected that she just wanted everyone to be together for as long as they could. Spending the night at his old mansion seemed almost too daunting, though, and his immediate reaction had been to reject the offer. Sebastian talked him into going after making a sincere promise that he would find away to keep everyone from serving him food. That wasn't the real reason he didn't want to go, but he thought it wasn't necessary to state that out loud.

He was worried that someone would find out he wasn't human. Sure, he could trust all of them to keep his secret, but he knew that if they caught on he would have to kill them. That was something he knew he didn't have the courage to do. As much as he had tried to be cold and indifferent, towards them, he still cared for them very much. He felt like killing them wouldn't be protection. It would be destruction instead. They needed, more than anything, to live a peaceful life. He didn't want his servants to suffer as badly as he had, and they had already been through enough already.

And so, it was with great trepidation that Ciel climbed out of his carriage in the early afternoon, his favorite pillow and his clothes in hand. Sebastian would be coming a bit later, after he had ensured that the townhouse was safely locked up. The boy already felt naked without his butler by his side, and not for the first time, he felt just like a little lost child. He squeezed his pillow tightly to his chest and stared up at his manor nervously. Somehow he thought he would feel embarrassed if he walked in without announcing his presence. He was just fine with waiting outside until he was noticed.

That didn't take too long, much to his disappointment. Again it was Finny who flung open the front doors, his ever-boyish smile in place and waiting. "Young Master, you're here! Where is Mr. Sebastian?"

"Um, he . . . he will be along in a little while. He wanted me to come ahead while he secured the townhouse." Slowly Ciel moved forward, past Finny and into the entrance hall. He paused; he was used to Sebastian removing his coat for him at this point, and though he could do it on his own just as well, he certainly didn't want to.

"Well, it is a bit odd," Finny continued jovially. "I don't think I've ever seen the Young Master without Sebastian somewhere nearby. Ah . . . are you alright? You look a bit stressed . . ."

"I'm alright, Finnian," Ciel brushed off quietly. He chose not to remove his coat in the end and instead headed for the staircase. "I guess . . . I'm not used to hi not being near me either. Where is everybody?"

The blonde man gestured with his head to the left. "Lady Elizabeth and the Count haven't arrived yet, but everyone else is preparing for evening meal in the dining hall. Would you like to join them?"

"No thank you; I'll be in my room. And Finnian?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

Ciel shook his head slowly. "Tonight I am just Ciel, and Sebastian is just Sebastian. You were my servants, but you were also my friends. Inform the others of this as well, please."

"It would give me great pleasure to do so, Ciel," Finny laughed. "Shall I fetch you once the others have arrived?"

"I would be grateful if you did. Thank you for having me tonight."

Finny waved his hand in the air dismissively. "It was Lady Elizabeth's idea; we just agreed to it. It's nice to have you back in the manor. It feels like home again, don't you think?"

Ciel had to disagree. His home, he supposed, was no longer just a place to live. Perhaps to the servants it was, but the Earl's mindset had changed abruptly somewhere in the past five years or so. His home, he believed, was wherever Sebastian was. Sebastian was his friend, his tutor, his father, and his brother. The more he thought about things like that, the more he came to realize that he loved the older demon, and he was the one person Ciel could never stand to live without. Sebastian had _always _been there with him.

So to Finny, he continued to walk, leaving the entrance hall with a simple reply of, "It's not home quite yet, I'm afraid."

The servants had done wonders to his old room. The musty old coverlets on his bed had been replaced with new ones shaded a light baby blue. The room no longer smelled like mold, which was a definite plus side thanks to his sensitive nose. Even the wallpaper had been replaced to match with the newness of everything else. It felt like he could be comfortable in here, even if this was the room where he had suffered through all of those nightmares.

Someone, he noticed with a smile, had been thoughtful enough to place an armchair in one corner of the room. Ciel discarded his clothes on the bed carelessly—Sebastian could iron them again if it was necessary—yanked his eye patch from his face, and headed straight for the plush chair. It was almost _too _comfortable, he thought as he slid down into the cushions and buried his nose in his pillow. He could fall asleep like this, if he weren't . . . if he weren't going to wait for Sebastian to arrive.

The kiss last night . . . it was the first time, in all his thirty-odd years, that he had ever been touched in such a strange way. It had forced his body to do weird things; it was highly humiliating, upon thinking back on it. If Sebastian was willing to go so far into a kiss with him, then Ciel wondered—somewhat nervously—just what else the demon would be willing to do to him.

It ashamed him to admit that he would very much like to find out.

After being forced to do something such as that, Ciel had been certain that he would never want to see Sebastian's face again. Now here he was, curled in his armchair, his eyes locked on the door as if he expected the butler to walk into the room at any second. Could he really get any sappier? If anyone else saw him acting like this . . .

Sebastian would make fun of him, that was for sure. And because of that, he yanked his eyes away from the door and focused on one of the portraits hanging on the wall above his bed. The picture he found himself staring at was the only one that included his servants. It had been Sebastian's persuasion and insistence that created it. They were a family—a twisted one, but a family nonetheless—and Sebastian had it done more for the servants than for Ciel. Meirin, Finny, Bard, and Tanaka all stood behind their Lord's chair, large and excited grins stretching their faces almost beyond recognition. Sebastian stood just beside, the chair with hand over heart, a perfectly serene smile gracing his features. And then there was Ciel, his expression cool and indifferent. Uncaring. But as the boy stared into his reflection's uncovered eye, he thought that he must have been happy like that.

"Young Master, you really could act more enthusiastic about being here."

Sebastian. Ciel let his eyes move lazily over to the door. "I thought it would take you longer to get here."

"Disappointed?"

"Not particularly," he breathed near silently.

"Lady Elizabeth arrived just after me, and I am rather pleased to announce that her children are asking for you. Oh dear . . . you will never get used to wearing that eye patch if you keep taking it off."

Ciel dutifully sat up to allow Sebastian to fix the covering over his right eye again. "Why did you want me to come here tonight?"

"I must admit, I partly wanted you to come for my benefit." Sebastian tugged experimentally on the bow he'd made and then withdrew his hands slowly. "I am quite curious about Lady Elizabeth's husband. I wanted to observe the Count a bit more thoroughly. As for you, My Lord, I believe that you have been thinking too hard lately. I thought that you needed a chance to relax. In which case, _Ciel_, I expect you to do just that. You will not disappoint me. You are here to have fun."

Ciel lowered the pillow into his lap. "You know me too well," he sighed regretfully. "I will try my best. Besides . . . as you well know, if Lizzy's children were asking for me, then I will be preoccupied the entire evening."

"But it stops you from thinking, in which case I am on their side." Sebastian abruptly pulled the boy to his feet, skillfully grabbing the pillow before it could fall to the floor. "Come now, it is rude of us to lounge in your room while we are honored guests. It is time for you to be sociable, My Lord."

". . . I hate being sociable."

* * *

"Papa!" Niam hollered excitedly. Ciel gasped when a small form thudded into his legs and wrapped skinny arms around his bare knees. The Earl glanced down at teal-colored hair just like his, somewhat bewildered by the amount of energy the child possessed. "Mother said you were coming, and I was so happy! You'll play with me, right?"

Off to the side, Sebastian chuckled softly. Ciel growled in annoyance and stomped down on the butler's foot as a weak attempt at revenge. "Of course I will," he told Niam serenely.

"'Papa'?" Soma questioned with a giggle. "Ciel, where does he get off calling you Papa?"

"Why, Soma, didn't I tell you?" Elizabeth ushered her two other children forward. "Ciel was named their godfather. But Ciel, why are you wearing such droll colors today? I don't think black suits you at all, you know. You were wearing that the . . . last time I saw you alive, too."

Bard dropped a chair down beside Ciel. The Earl disentangled Niam from his legs before gratefully taking the seat and leaning back. Of course, as soon as he was comfortable, Lizzy's youngest child clambered onto his lap . . . and just afterwards, he clearly caught Count Child's furious glare from across the parlor. The best thing to do, he supposed, was to ignore it. But it was in his nature to rub things in just a little bit, and when a _father_ was jealous . . . He turned back to his former fiancé calmly. "I'm sorry you don't like it, Lizzy. It's merely what I felt like wearing today. Oh dear . . . Count Childs, did you swallow something foul? Your face is rather red."

"Father's just mad I like you more," Niam announced shamelessly.

"Eh . . . that's . . . not a very nice thing to say," the Earl stuttered in reply. Talk about a way to get on someone's bad side . . .

Lizzy grimaced unhappily as the Count's face brightened considerably more. "N-now, Ed dear, Niam didn't mean it; I'm sure he's just at that age where things slip out of his mouth. Um . . . Ciel, why don't you take the children out to the gardens? Finny has fixed up an area for them to play . . ."

Seeing that the situation had escalated into nothing good—he wondered if Mr. Childs' face was about to explode—Ciel got back onto his feet and lifted Niam into his arms awkwardly. "Will anyone else be joining us?"

"Some time in the sun won't do me any harm," Soma quickly agreed, and the rest of them followed just afterwards.

Ciel thought it rather strange that the urge to protect Lizzy still bubbled up even though she was so much older than him now. As soon as the door shut behind the crowd of Phantomhive acquaintances, he pulled Sebastian to the side. He felt more comfortable with the butler by his side, but his concern for Elizabeth's safety overrode that for the moment. "Will you listen in?" he asked quietly. "Do not interfere unless it is necessary, but . . ."

"I understand. Besides, it gives me yet another opportunity to observe the Count."

"What do you find so fascinating about him?"

Sebastian's eyes trailed down to Niam guardedly. Of _course_, he wouldn't say something when the toddler could repeat it back to his father. "I will explain it to you later; for now, simply go and entertain the other children."

"Ciel, Ciel!" Soma yelled—had he _ever _grown up?—down the hallway. "Come on, it's no fun if you're not here!"

"I'll see you outside in a few minutes," he sighed regretfully.

Somehow this was the second time he had ended up outside with Elizabeth's children, only this time he was here with them without their parents. Despite their appearances, Ciel could still only see the other residents of the manor as they had been before he'd left. He didn't feel like any of them were capable of watching three younger children, and he _knew _he wasn't capable enough himself. He sincerely hoped that nothing bad would happen while Lizzy was inside.

To his relief, Isaiah and Charlotte did not badger him into playing with them—he would have refused London Bridge, anyhow—and instead ran off to an empty area to entertain themselves. Niam seemed torn between following his older siblings and staying with Ciel, but he eventually chose the latter and decided to teach the Earl some games to play with their hands. It was embarrassing at first, but Ciel had to admit to himself that playing with Niam was fun, and that it took his mind off of everything that had happened in the last few days.

"So, Earl," Lau spoke up. "What about your mission? Will you be leaving us yet again or will you remain in that form for a while longer?"

Ciel paused, his hands held up and only halfway touching Niam's. "I . . ." he muttered quietly, "Sebastian and I . . . we're at a dead end. So I think I'll have to stay here for a bit longer, yes."

"As much as I'd like to say I'm sorry, I'm sure glad you get to stay with us longer." Bard slapped Ciel vigorously on the back; the boy jerked forward in his seat hard enough to make his eye patch slid down past his cheek. Hurriedly he squeezed his eye shut and yanked the piece of fabric back into its rightful place. If anyone saw the truth of what was under there, he'd have to kill them for sure . . .

But apparently, no one had caught sight of his eyeball, and the question that came from Meirin was completely innocent. "If you're a ghost now, then why do you still need to hide your eye?"

"Eh . . ." Quickly he bowed his head again, adjusting the patch as he thought up a plausible reply. "My physical appearance stayed the way it was when I died. I'm not sure why."

"That's right unfair," the middle-aged maid grumped; luckily, she had fallen for the lie. "But it's the way we remember you, so we can't be complaining. Makes me believe it's really you, you know."

"Papa!" Niam yanked Ciel's hands back down, successfully claiming attention again. As Ciel dove in for another round of patty cake and thumb wrestling, he wondered if he had ever been such an attention seeker. After his month with the occultists, the only thing he tried to do was run away from standing out. It had failed completely, of course, but he could never remember a time when he had _looked _for the attention. He probably had, but . . .

"Oh dear, it looks like he's managed to grab someone else with those games!" Elizabeth laughed as she rushed from the manor to the group that had formed around a small snack table. "I'm terribly sorry, Ciel, he just gets so much entertainment out of them right now. If you're bored or troubled in the least . . ."

Ciel stopped clapping his hands against Niam's and faced forward in his chair. "It's alright, Lizzy; it was rather fun. Where is Mr. Childs?"

"He . . . decided to retire early, I'm afraid. He's never been happy that Niam doesn't like him as much as the others do. It is selfish, I know, but I can't bring myself to confront him about it . . ."

"It's fine." Ciel attempted a half-smile towards her, and even though it was just as fake as ever, it seemed to satisfy her for the time being.

"Young Master," Sebastian called casually, approaching from the manor. "I have finished putting your clothes away. Is there anything else you need?"

So he had managed to keep his presence hidden from Elizabeth and her husband . . . as expected. Ciel shook his head, keeping in line with the charade. "Of course not. You were invited here as a guest as well; you should just relax for awhile, don't you think?"

"Relax?" Niam questioned; he sounded aghast to hear such a word. "No, no, Sebby, play with us, kay? Papa, can we go play with 'Saiah and Lottie?"

In the end, as Ciel had predicted, he had no choice in the matter. The two older children came over and practically dragged him to their little playing area. Sebastian came along, a satisfied smirk on his face . . . one that the Earl wanted to punch off. He had probably known, all along, that the three Childs' kids would properly distract Ciel from his own thoughts. But he wasn't going to condone his butler . . .

Forgetting everything felt _good_.

* * *

How Niam had ended up fast asleep on Ciel's bed, he would never know. The little boy laid stretched out on the large mattress, thumb shoved in his mouth—Lizzy surely should have broken that habit in him by now—and shirt hiked halfway up his tiny chest. Because of this, Ciel would much rather going to sleep in the armchair, but he didn't want to seem frightened off by the presence of a small child.

A knock on his door made him turn. He'd been expecting Sebastian, but it was Elizabeth standing there instead, a soft expression on her face. "So this is where he was," she whispered endearingly.

Ciel nodded in reply. While Lizzy came in, he sat down at the edge of the bed and started to remove his boots. This was a side of her that he had never expected to witness. He wondered vaguely if it was her children that had somewhat tamed her vivacious attitude, but he _knew _that they had made her gentle. She was a perfect mother, he thought, and he was sure that she would do anything to protect her kids. He . . . never would have been like that. his attitude would have torn the two of them apart. He was glad that he could be a bystander to everything taking place now, by all means. But he was entirely grateful to Sebastian for unconsciously preventing a marital disaster.

"I was so happy to find that he liked you," Elizabeth murmured. She came to stand just in front of him. "I used to think he wouldn't, because you were never happy and Niam was happiness itself. But he loves you to death. He wouldn't stop talking about you yesterday, you know."

"I don't see why. I haven't done anything to impress him, I think. Did you make me out to be bigger than I really am?"

"I may have told him a few stories," the woman giggled happily. "He really does look just like you. I can hardly see myself or Edward in there. I simply had to name him after you as soon as I saw the color of his eyes."

"It really is uncanny," Ciel agreed. He set his boots down next to his closet and started removing his jacket. "Are you going to take him back to his room?"

"If I move him he'll wake up for sure. You don't mind if I leave him in here, do you? He sleeps soundly through the night, so you won't have to worry about him waking up . . ." Lizzy stared at him hopefully. Clearly she wanted Ciel to like Niam as much as the toddler liked _him_.

"Don't worry about it," he brushed off. "It's not like he takes up that much space on the bed."

"Thanks so much, Ciel!" Lizzy rushed around the bed and wrapped her arms around Ciel ecstatically. "It may be rash of me, but I think I can rightly say that you're one of the only people I could trust to take care of my children for me."

"Lizzy . . ."

She bent down and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Ciel," she whispered calmly before leaving the room; Ciel could faintly hear her say, "Oh, Sebastian! Good night to you too!" before the door clicked shut.

"She certainly hasn't lost the power to surprise you," Sebastian said as he stepped into the center of the room. "Were you in the middle of changing?"

"It's not like you have to leave," Ciel snorted while he pulled his shirt over his head. "You've seen me naked more times than I can count."

Sebastian eyeballed the Earl's naked chest without bothering to hide his lustful expression. "Mm, and what I sight it has always been . . ."

"P-Pervert!" Ciel stuttered in horror. He angrily threw his shirt at his butler's face and turned away as he tugged off his pants as well.

"My, the Young Master has such a temper tonight."

Ciel sighed in annoyance. "Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"How come no matter how many times I tell you to call me by my name, you _still _refer to me as your master?"

Gloved hands suddenly descended on Ciel's bare shoulders; he shivered at the unexpectedly soft touch. "I will call you by your name when you stop acting like an utter fool. You prefer to drown in your misery instead of facing it like you should. It disgusts me, to be honest."

"How . . ." Ciel continued, "can you say that I disgust you and that you like me at the same time? You're contradicting yourself."

"You have it wrong, Young Master." One of those hands moved to stroke through the boy's baby-soft hair. Ciel could only imagine what Sebastian's face looked like at that moment. "It is your attitude that disgusts me. Never _you_."

"Can I please get dressed?" Ciel sighed. He liked the feel of Sebastian's hand in his hair, but he still wasn't sure he was ready to accept the butler's feelings . . . and he _was _completely in the nude . . .

"Of course. I apologize. Do not forget to remove your eye patch."

Ciel froze and glanced over at Niam's sleeping form. "But . . . he might . . ."

The butler sighed and moved to undo the fabric himself. "Young Master, he is four years old. Even if he sees your eye he will not understand what it means. Just keep it closed."

"Is it really safe to sleep with him? Since I'm . . ."

Sebastian's gaze moved one more time to the resting child. "You had a piece of the candy that Undertaker gave you when you got ready earlier, did you not? It is a bit unconventional, but a soul is a soul after all. It will keep your eyes from changing colors."

Ciel began fastening the buttons on his nightshirt—it was a black one, due to Sebastian packing for him—and reluctantly turned back in the direction of the elder demon. "What of the conversation between Lizzy and her husband?"

"I would prefer to leave that explanation for another time . . . tomorrow, perhaps. Would you like me to tuck you in, Young Master?"

"I can do it on my own, thanks." Ciel smoothed out the front of his shirt, folded down his collar, and grabbed his pillow from the armchair where he had deposited it earlier. "Good night, Sebastian."

The butler smiled once more at him. "I shall be by in the morning to wake you. Sleep well, Young Master."

And the door clicked shut softly behind the black-clad demon.

Ciel stared at the door for a good five minutes after Sebastian left, puzzled by the man's actions. He really _wasn't _a normal demon, the more the boy thought about it. Sebastian was calm where a demon might be hotheaded, kind where a demon might be ruthless, and gentle where a demon might be rough. He _cared_, and that had Ciel wondering more than anything else why he acted in such a way. Claude—that infuriating Trancy butler who started this entire mess—was what Ciel believed to be a true example of a demon. He'd gone so far as to kill his own contractor for his own gain. Sebastian . . . Sebastian never would have done such a thing. His first priority had always been to protect his master.

Ciel crawled under the baby-blue covers of his bed, cautiously maneuvering his way around the toddler curled up on the other side. He was sure that Sebastian hadn't acted the same with any other contracts he may have had, but he wasn't sure how far the kindness particularly went. Was that sort of emotion reserved only for Ciel's sake? Or if the demon found a beautiful woman, would it extend to her as well? No . . . no, he doubted that. As much as Sebastian had "used" women for informational purposes, he had never looked twice at them. It was different, somehow.

Maybe Sebastian . . . really _did _mean that he liked the liked the Earl . . .

Ciel moaned softly to himself and buried his face into his pillow. His heart was beginning to pound at the mere thought of such possibility. He _wanted _it to be real. It meant that he would always have someone to care for him, to stay with him, to keep him away from that horrendous feeling of utter loneliness. It was hardly imaginable, and yet . . . yet . . .

For the first time, Ciel Phantomhive allowed himself to hope.

* * *

***glances up at chapter* PHEW. I had a lot of fun writing this one, actually, because of Ciel's thoughts, but it just took a long time to get everything sorted out. So. Is the boy making progress now, or what? Readers: "Uh, no. He's not making progress. Sebastian just decided to speed things along." **

**The next chapter is . . . where the real plot decides to start, but this one here is beneficial for getting you **_**to **_**that next chapter. Make sure to read between the lines. ;) Then again, a lot of you guys are so smart about that already. I get the giggles every time you guys see something being hinted at, because it makes me so happy. **

**A big thanks to all of you that were kind enough to review or add this story to your favorites/alerts. You don't know how much I appreciate it. It makes it feel worth it to spend so long on this. **

**I've dropped one of my other fics for a little while, so I should have more time to work on **_**Bonds**_** now. I've been shooting out one a month, but I want to be able to get them out quicker so no one gets impatient. **

**OH! And it seems like everyone liked Niam the most . . . which is good, because you're going to be seeing plenty more of him. *hint hint* Does anyone have an idea what his purpose in the storyline is? **

**Thanks for reading! **

**~Shadow**


	6. Chapter Five: Revealing

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the property of Toboso Yana.**

**A/N: I feel bad about not mentioning this before, but the era they're currently in is the Edwardian Era, which lasted until 1910. Just so we have that clear, because there are a few changes in society and stuff; I'll point those areas out while I'm writing. **

**Chapter Five: Revealing**

**

* * *

**"Oh, but Ciel, you simply _must_! Please, there's no one else who can do it, and besides, I trust you and Sebastian!"

"Lizzy, I am _not _watching them for you. I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Do I _look _like I know anything about taking care of children? And Sebastian's been busy lately, there's no way we can help. Why can't you take them to the main house?"

"Because Lau just got in a new shipment of opium—"

"I told him to stop having it delivered to the manor!"

"—and there's no way I'm letting my children get near that stuff. _Please_, Ciel! I can't go with Edward otherwise, he doesn't want them coming along!"

"Young Master, if I may . . . we should take them in. It is only for a couple hours; surely you can deal with them for that long."

Well, goodness. Now he _knew _he was going to lose this battle.

"Sebastian!"

"Oh, Sebastian, you're such a dear! Well, you shouldn't have much of a problem with Lottie as long as you have a book for her to read; she can take care of herself now, you know. And let Isaiah outside for a bit. He'll wear himself out and then fall fast asleep. And Niam . . . well, Ciel, dear, you're already quite good at dealing with him."

It was a ridiculously abrupt wake-up call in Ciel's case. If there had been a guest, he would have expected Sebastian to wake him up . . . not to have the guest come barging into his room screaming at the top of their lungs about a date. Lizzy had been desperate to find someone to watch her children, and under normal circumstances, the Earl might have accepted. But that incessant screaming of Elizabeth's coupled with the fact that he had just woken up—he was still buried under his covers, for goodness' sake!—just served to make him extremely intolerant.

Lizzy was lucky that Sebastian had decided to show up.

"Where the hell are you going anyway?" the Earl moaned, not in the mood to hide his rather obvious potty mouth.

Lizzy blanched at the brusque words before recovering and beaming a smile at him. "He won't tell me, no matter how much I ask him. Isn't he a dear? It's so romantic. He hasn't acted like this since before Lottie was born. Ooh, I can't wait! Thank you so much for watching the children, Ciel. I'll make it up to you, really."

Ciel caught the beginnings of a frown on Sebastian's face at one of Elizabeth's statements. He decided not to wonder about it, though, and instead turned his attention back to the woman looming over his bed. "You'd better," he grumbled unhappily. "Where are they at?"

"Downstairs in the parlor, waiting with Edward. You'd better go see them, okay? Before we leave. That way they'll know to listen to you." Lizzy clapped her hands together excitedly. "They'll be so happy to see you. It's been a week since the last time, you know."

"Just . . . give me a minute to change, okay?"

"No! Now! Come on, come on!"

If her barging into his room made him mad, then her dragging him out of his room and into the presence of others in nothing but a nightshirt made him positively livid. Ciel barely managed to snatch his eye patch on the way out, and Sebastian adjusted over his eye even as he was pulled down the stairs. He very nearly directed a harsh glare at the three children sitting in the parlor—it was their fault, anyway—before he got a hold of himself. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his glare to Lizzy instead.

To make matters worse, Edward Childs was practically smirking at him. "It seems my wife's impatience has forbidden you from presenting us with an appropriate appearance. I apologize. Elizabeth, dear, are you ready?"

"How late will you be out?" Ciel demanded, smoothly interrupting before Lizzy could reply.

"It is hard to say," the Count brushed off calmly. "You see, I plan to take her somewhere special today. I merely ask that you look after them and, if you need to, put them in bed. We can take care of the rest."

Ciel sighed and shook his head. "Do you realize that if I have to 'put them to bed' you will not be getting into the house? You will have to wait until morning to pick them up. Goodness knows I'll be asleep too."

Lizzy raised a hand to her mouth; she looked slightly insulted. "But Ciel!" she whined in quite the un-ladylike fashion. "That's not fair! Can't you leave a key—"

"No. If I leave a key for one person, that means I have to leave them for others. I will not tolerate trespassers, even if I know them." The Earl turned to face the Count once more. "Is that clear? If you are too late, then you will have to wait until morning."

"Only if you feed them breakfast."

"That can be easily dealt with."

"S-so, we're staying with Papa all day?" Niam asked quietly. Ciel glanced down at the child—he was sitting on the floor at his father's feet—for the first time since entering the room. His gaze looked hopeful, but slightly frightened at the same time. Maybe it was his first time staying with someone without his mother around? Ciel had never had that problem, so he had to wonder if it was really that horrible a prospect for the boy.

His attention on that aspect was swiftly broken as the Count suddenly snapped at the little boy. "Didn't I tell you not to call him Papa?" he yelled angrily. So _that _was the reason the child was scared . . . apparently the father had jealousy issues. Ciel found that slightly amusing, seeing as how the jealousy was directed towards one that was still a child himself. Still . . . it was rather belittling to have someone yell so rudely at their own child in his house, so he quickly directed another glare in the man's direction.

"Mr. Childs, I will not have you yelling in my parlor. If you are going to take Lizzy out, then you might as well leave already. There is no point in you being here any longer."

Niam, having been thoroughly shocked by his father's outburst, hesitantly peeked out from behind his mother's skirts. "Mother, how long are you going to be gone?"

"I don't know, dear, but you can play with Ciel all day, so isn't that a good thing?"

"No. He looks grumpy today."

"That's your mother's fault," Ciel snorted pointedly. "I don't like someone waking me up for a reason such as this."

"Does that mean you don't want to watch us?" Isaiah asked, equally quiet as his brother.

"Um . . ."

"My master is only too happy to have you for company," Sebastian smoothly interjected, covering up the fact that Ciel really _didn't_ want to watch them. "He is not a morning person, you see; he will cheer up once he changes and takes a bath. Count Childs, Countess . . . will you allow me to show you to the door? I promise we will take good care of your children during your absence."

The Count rose in a huff, his eyes—Ciel noticed for the first time that they were an odd shade of yellow not unlike the demon Claude's had been—directed angrily at them both. He entertained a cold bow and extended an arm for his wife. "Thank you for watching them," he answered curtly before leaving.

And as the man brushed by Ciel, he caught a whiff of something . . . not right. There was a smell that should not have been present, and his instincts immediately told him that he needed to watch out. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it was something highly unpleasant.

He did not trust this man.

No one in the parlor moved for a good minute following Sebastian's exit. Ciel, because he was still horrified by the strange smell—he _knew _he'd smelled something like that somewhere before, but where?—and the children because they had no idea what had just happened. It was safe to say that the atmosphere felt . . . confusing.

"Niam," Ciel finally breathed. "Why did he tell you not to call me that?"

The smallest child looked up with undisguised chagrin. "L-last week," he stuttered softly, "Father told me . . . he told me you weren't my godpapa. He said Mother made that up."

The Earl frowned and knelt down so that he was face to face with the boy. He didn't exactly know how to comfort someone like this, since he wasn't that good at comforting himself in the first place. Still, what the Count was doing to his children was wrong, and he had to fix it somehow. "Your father is lying, you know. Because your mother told me that I was, and she doesn't ever lie to me. You think he's just jealous?"

"He doesn't like you," Charlotte said coldly.

Ciel glanced up at the girl. She had a serious look in her eyes; she must have been thinking hard about the conversation going on. "Does that mean you don't like me either?"

"Oh, no! I like you very much! I just want to know why Father doesn't like you. You haven't done anything to him! As soon as Mother told him about you, he got mad. It's very strange, isn't it?"

"Stranger by the minute," he grunted. "Have you three been fed, then? It's rather early."

"We ate," Lottie graciously supplied. "But Niam still gets hungry all the time; he's a little pig."

"Not a pig!" Niam protested. "Pigs are gross! Father brought one home alive before we moved to the city house (1). It made funny noises and smelled bad."

Ciel smirked at that statement, feeling his grumpy mood subside just a bit. Perhaps watching the kids for the day would prove to be substantial in the end. "Either way, you will like Sebastian's cooking. He might very well be the best cook in all of London."

"Is he going to make us lunch, then?" Isaiah demanded.

"If the children behave," Sebastian cut in smoothly; Ciel turned to face the demon with his eyebrow raised. It certainly hadn't taken long to get the Count to leave . . . "I will make you a meal so wonderful you will not be able to stop eating. But only if you listen to everything my master tells you to do, since it is his job to watch over you. Is that understood?" The black-haired man then turned to face Ciel. "I will watch them while you change your attire into something more appropriate. I have laid out an outfit for you on your bed, if that is alright with you."

"Black again?" was Ciel's chosen reply.

"But of course. If I may say so, Young Master, your clothes from the manor are horribly outdated and stiff (2). It is uncomely of you to approach others in that sort of wear. Modern clothing—"

"It's fine. Just . . . next time we get new outfits, please keep in mind that black is not the only color in existence."

Ciel left the parlor and retreated back upstairs to his bedroom then, leaving the children in the butler's care for a few moments. He wanted to take a bath, to lounge in the warm water for a good hour or so, but he couldn't afford any luxuries today. He wanted to avoid any chances to think . . .

Because, once he _could _think about it, he knew that it was dangerous for them to be here. He hadn't gone to eat since that night last week, and he was getting hungry again. Even yesterday, his eyes had been flashing red when he least expected it to happen. He had no idea how he was going to be able to contain his urges. He couldn't exactly go out and hunt on his own, or take them with him. Besides the fact that it was broad daylight, he knew he wouldn't be able to kill anyone without the victim screaming first. His crimes—and identity—would be blatantly obvious.

There was always the candy that Undertaker had given to him, but it could become addicting far too easily and he didn't want to risk being hampered by _candy _of all things. He'd already eaten one piece too many for the week. Yesterday he had felt the pull of eating another share of the chocolate just after downing the first one. The urge was gone today, but he did not want to bring it back into existence. He would rather take his chances with his eyes changing color.

Maybe . . . he could get Sebastian to go and get something for him while he watched Lizzy's children. That seemed like the best plausible option, though the thought of Sebastian dragging a dead body through his front door seemed a bit revolting, not to mention dirty. He was _hungry_, though, and he was willing to do that if it meant no one would find out.

It was odd . . . he did not feel disgusted by the prospect of eating a human anymore. Something had evidently changed since the last time they had gone hunting. Was it the fact that he had finally gotten a taste of a soul? But no, because just after that he had eaten the heart with as much reluctance as ever. Even _that _was beginning to sound good to him. Maybe it was just that he had more important things to be worried about in this form. He was going to have to face up to the fact that he was a demon some time or another. It seemed to him that he just had, and that he was more concerned with being left alone than anything else.

Concerning that, however . . . this past week . . .

Ciel thought back on Sebastian's behavior throughout the past seven days as he slithered out of his nightshirt and into the painfully dark outfit resting on his bed. The butler had been almost . . . creepily close to him. He was always touching him when it wasn't necessary, insisting on giving him baths even though he could do it himself, even going so far as to kiss him on the cheek to startle him. It was like the demon was telling him in actions rather than words that he wasn't going to go anywhere. More and more, Ciel found himself believing it. The unusual gentleness that Sebastian was approaching him with lately was a big hint that he wasn't being lied to. Every word directed at him screamed honesty. And the look in Sebastian's eyes was a dead giveaway. There were emotions he was unused to showing up in those murky depths.

Sebastian would probably never admit it out loud, and neither would Ciel, but there was definitely an attraction.

He was just buttoning up the last of his over shirt when the door was flung open for the second time that morning, and in ran Niam, grabbing onto Ciel's bare leg in excitement. "Papa, you never said you had a piano here! Lottie, she's really good, will you come hear her?"

"Sure. Niam . . . you don't have to call me that, you know. It is rather embarrassing, after all . . ."

The toddler pouted unhappily. "But I don't have anything else to call you. I need _something _to call you."

"Ciel is just fine," he stated, raising an eyebrow.

"But that's _my _name too! We won't be able to tell the difference!"

"No one calls you Ciel, however. Everyone would know who you were talking about." The demon child lifted Niam into his arms and began the descent back to the first floor. "I think it would be just fine. And your father will not yell at you any more, on top of that."

Niam scowled and bashfully glanced at his current carrier. "Father always yells at me though," he admitted, like he shouldn't actually be saying anything on the subject. "He wants me to be just like him."

Ciel carefully shifted the toddler to just one of his arms; he used the other to grip at the railing while he moved down the stairs. He could hear soft music floating in from the music room. "Shouldn't he be paying more attention to Isaiah?" he murmured, mostly to himself. "As the eldest son, he will inherit the business your father owns. He should be focusing more on training his heir, not yelling at his youngest child."

"Father said he doesn't care about his business. He ignores 'Saiah and Lottie." The words were spoken in a chagrined whisper. Niam was expecting to be punished for saying things of the sort about his own parent.

Still, Ciel didn't exactly blame him. He had adored his father, would have done anything to please him. But then, it was more than obvious that Vincent Phantomhive loved his child. He never yelled, never punished him, and had always trained Ciel in the best way he knew how to in order to take over the estate. Count Edward Childs, on the other hand . . . one of the first things Ciel had noticed was that he did not love his children.

There would definitely be some serious repercussions in the future because of that.

He placed Niam on his feet at the bottom of the staircase. The toddler ran off towards the music room immediately, only glancing back once to make sure Ciel was following him. As he trailed afterwards, the Earl focused on the piece echoing outwards from the room. It was a tune he'd never heard before, and that was certainly saying something: he spent his free time—and there a quite a bit of _that_, to be sure—learning the newest pieces from popular composers. It had a haunting melody . . . beautiful, certainly, but sad at the same time. More than that, the scene that met him when he entered the room was incredibly contradictory. Sitting at the piano bench, playing that depressing piece, was Charlotte Childs with a delighted smile on her face.

She was playing the final chords as he shut the door behind him; she turned with that beaming smile still in place. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked. "Whenever I see a piano I simply can't resist."

"It's fine. What piece were you playing?"

The girl blushed prettily. "I made it up myself. Sometimes I find Mozart and Clementi too droll for my tastes. I did always enjoy Grieg, though. The poor dear, passing away last year . . . I was so upset to hear of that; it meant no new scores on his part (3). Oh, I'm so sorry!" She clapped a hand to her mouth. "You see, I get far too riled up over music sometimes, you probably don't even know what I'm talking about . . ."

Ciel caught a knowing smirk from Sebastian as he moved to sit beside Lottie. "This piano wouldn't be here if I didn't know what you were talking about. Is Grieg your favorite, then? What is your preferred piece by him?"

Lottie practically glowed at the question and immediately her hands migrated back to the keys, imitating the first notes of her chosen piece. "_Elfin Dance_, of course! It's so upbeat and . . . and other worldly. Haven't you ever wished you were a mythical being like an Elf or an Angel?"

Ciel sucked in a deep breath nervously. Charlotte, thank goodness, had no idea that she had just struck gold, but it was close enough to make him extremely cautious. "Not particularly," he murmured nonchalantly. "Do you have a name for the piece you played?"

"Not yet; Isaiah is helping me pick one out. Oh, won't you play a duet with me?"

He didn't want to at first, but it was a welcome distraction from his growing hunger. They were here all day, after all. He might as well indulge . . . "Alright," he stated, situating himself on the bench more comfortably. "You begin, and I'll jump in."

**

* * *

**They played for around two hours, time during which Isaiah had found Ciel's old violin and joined in and Niam had fallen fast asleep on Sebastian's lap. By the time they stopped it was almost noon, and Ciel sent his butler to begin preparing a meal for their guests. Charlotte, the Earl noticed, was extremely mature for her age . . . even more so than he had been, which was quite a feat in his opinion. Isaiah too was mature, and his face had fallen into that of a serene man's while he played the dusty old violin. He had to wonder if it was their father's discipline that made them that way. Lizzy certainly wouldn't have forced them to act like adults.

It came unexpectedly. He was just rising from the piano bench when a sharp sting of pain flashed through his eyes . . . it was a warning for a severe color change. He grabbed onto the piano for balance, fingers slamming down piercingly on the keys as he squeezed his visible eye shut. This was _bad _. . .

A small hand latched onto Ciel's shorts. "What is it?" Niam asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he grunted out. His sense of smell heightened; the scent of a human soul invaded his nostrils, along with that same scent he'd smelled on Count Childs earlier. He brushed it aside as a smell that carried from parent to child; it wasn't important. "Just . . . can you three get Sebastian for me? He'll be down the kitchen at the end of the hall."

"We'll be right back," Charlotte agreed. "Come on, Niam."

As soon as they were gone he opened his eyes, running his tongue over newly-grown fangs. He _hated_ his open form . . . not because of the appearance, per say, but because it forced his feral emotions and hunger to the surface. Even now his senses were tingling, telling him there were humans near him ripe for the picking. He had to physically force himself to ignore it.

Slowly he approached the full-length mirror that hung from the back of the door (4). His eye, as he expected, was brightly colored, somewhere between a cherry red and a bloodshot pink; the cat-like pupil stared back at him almost condescendingly. If he opened his mouth even slightly he could see his elongated teeth. Even his skin seemed to have taken on an ethereal glow.

Tch. Demon.

He sat back down on the piano bench while he waited for Sebastian. It was embarrassing: sure, he was a babe in the eyes of fellow demons, but he should at _least _be able to control himself around humans. He couldn't even do that much. The most he could do was to keep himself calm in this form . . .

And be thankful that he didn't turn out to have a tongue like Claude's. Yuck.

He slumped down when he heard Sebastian return with the children, closing his eyes so that wouldn't be seen. Luckily Sebastian told the kids to wait at the door, and then it was clicking open softly. "I should have known this would happen," the elder demon sighed. "Come now, Young Master, you are beginning to resemble a puppy with its tail between its legs."

Ciel frowned and straightened up, blinking warily at his butler. "You said you didn't like dogs."

"Precisely my point. You haven't gotten in trouble; therefore you shouldn't look so ashamed."

"I'm not ashamed. I'm just . . . upset at myself. A bit."

"And why is that?" Sebastian moved to tower over Ciel, an frown crossing his face to show that he wasn't very amused.

"Because! I can't control it when this . . . this version of me comes out, and that I'm so hungry in front of them." Ciel's hands, down in front of him, gripped at the piano bench as an anchor. "Sebastian, you told me last week that Once-Humans are the most powerful demons. If that is the case, then why am I so weak?"

"Allow me to be blunt, my Lord. You are weak because you refuse to move forward. It is not denial, but you fail to accept what you are. If you remain in that state of mind, you will never be able to control yourself." Ciel flinched out of reflex as a gloved hand came to rest on his forehead. "Now. You have done this before. Forget that your body is reacting to the smell and it shall go back to the way it was before."

"Is there any way for you to bring back something to eat?" Ciel breathed, relaxing as he felt his fangs sink back to the size of normal canines.

"As much as I would like to say you can do without for now, you cannot go back to this stage if the children need to stay the night. I will see what I can do." Sebastian removed his hand as Ciel's eye flickered cerulean blue again. "I have prepared a meal in the kitchen for the humans. You will be fine alone with them until I return?"

"I can cope with them. You won't be gone long anyway, I presume."

"Ah, you know me too well." Sebastian, with a feral twinkle in his eye, straightened up only to bow at his master. "What sort of meal would you like today, Young Lord? A harlot, perhaps? Or a drunken bastard?"

Ciel couldn't help but to grimace at the wording. He clapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation as he replied, "Just _get _someone. I don't care who, I'd prefer not to know at all. I'm just . . . hungry. You make it sound like . . . never mind."

"What?"

"I was going to say that you're making me sound like a cannibal, but that is pretty much the entire truth."

Sebastian shook his head. "Ah, but you're wrong. We are not human . . . or did you forget?"

"Just go get me something to eat," he groaned.

"As you wish, my Lord."

Sebastian escaped through the nearby window—much to Ciel's dismay, since now he would have to explain why his butler had magically disappeared—and left the room eerily silent once again. Ciel looked himself over in the mirror once again to make sure he was back to normal; he was pleased to find that he looked perfectly human. Sebastian, as usual, had done an impeccable job.

"Pa—um, Ciel, are you okay?" Niam shrieked as soon as the door was opened again. Ciel stumbled slightly as his leg was grabbed. "You looked really scary and . . ."

"I'm fine," he brushed off quickly. "I was just a little dizzy."

"You should eat more then," Lottie chastised. "You're dreadfully skinny, and I've never seen you eat even when we had the sleepover last week. Are you going to eat lunch with us?"

"Um . . ." He bit his lip nervously. If he didn't eat, they might notice something was wrong, but on the other hand, he wasn't about to go and eat something that smelled horrible. Instead he settled with, "Sebastian said he would bring me something a little better to eat. You're right; I probably haven't been eating much. Come, he's left your food out in the kitchen."

"Where is Sebby?" Isaiah asked.

Ciel didn't skip a beat. "You mean you didn't see him leave the room once you opened the door? He was in a bit of a hurry; the oven might have been burning. Either way, he left the house for a few minutes. He had some business to attend to. In the mean time, you should eat the meal he prepared before it gets cold."

He didn't miss the soft "hmm" of suspicion that dropped from Charlotte's mouth as he walked past, but he didn't let it get to him either. The girl was definitely smarter than the other two, and he knew he would have to be careful around her. The best way to do that, in his opinion, was to make it seem like it was completely normal for some of these things to happen. He had to keep it ordinary even if it wasn't. Otherwise Lottie would find something out . . . and goodness knew he wanted to kill one of Lizzy's children even less than he wanted to kill one of his former servants.

"Why aren't we eating in the dining hall?" Isaiah spoke up; Ciel paused in pushing open the kitchen door. "This is where the servants eat."

"Partly because you aren't my guests today," Ciel replied without preamble, hastily pushing the older Childs boy into the room. "You're here because your mother wanted you here, and I didn't exactly invite you into my house. Besides, there are no servants here other than Sebastian, and he did not have time to set the table for you. It will not kill you to eat in here."

"But," Niam protested nervously, "Father said if we eat in the same room as a servant we'll get sick!"

"Niam," Ciel spat out crossly. "My former servants are some of my closest friends. They aren't any different than you and me, except that they aren't rich, or they don't have a social status. They are every bit as clean as we are. I don't know what lies your father has been telling you, but there is no reason for you to get sick when the servants aren't sick to begin with."

Isaiah's gaze hit the floor nervously. "Why does Father say those things to us, then? He says that they aren't any better than dirt."

"They're your servants because they can't just get money for being close to the King. They have to work to support themselves. That doesn't mean that they should be treated like dirt. They feel emotions just like you. You like Sebastian, don't you?" Ciel wanted to slap himself for using such an example, but Sebastian was the closest example he could think of to get his point across. "Do you think he isn't any better than dirt?"

"Sebby isn't dirt," the boy denied instantly. "He's fun, and—"

"Exactly my point. He may be a servant, but he's very . . . kind, and he has feelings of his own." Ciel shrugged nonchalantly before gesturing towards the table. "You should eat now, before it isn't to your liking."

As the three of them sat down at the table, he breathed a mental sigh of relief. Explaining things like that . . . he wasn't good at it. He had always left the explaining to Sebastian or one of his other servants. He didn't mind it really, but he never felt like he was telling it the way he wanted to. He was always afraid of making a mistake that the other person would find somehow.

Still, it would do in a pinch.

Sebastian returned five minutes later, clothes still reeking faintly of blood and wine. Ciel made a face at the stench but remained otherwise emotionless until the elder demon whispered into his ear. "It is out back, in the garden. Try not to take your time; the woman is rather messy and will take longer to clean up. I will watch them for you."

"You smell horrid," Ciel breathed in reply. "Give them an excuse for me leaving. You're better at it than I am. I will be back."

"Of course."

Deftly he slipped out the kitchen door, and just as he closed it behind him, he heard one of the children say, "Where did Ciel just go?" He ignored Sebastian's answer, instead training his attention towards the furthest door down the hall. Past the music room and past the dining hall . . . as he moved closer he began to smell it. A human soul, impure and mouthwatering, and blood, less satisfying but still making him hungrier. He flinched as his eyes flashed red and nearly bit his tongue with his fangs; his natural instinct was to look around and make sure no one could see him in such a state. Once he was certain that he was alone, he opened the door to the garden impatiently and slipped outside.

Sebastian had been kind enough to remove the victim's heart prematurely, but Ciel decided to forego eating that for the moment. He wanted to try for a soul again. He _knew _he could do it. He'd had a taste before, and he would have eaten the entire thing if he hadn't been startled by his success. He was a twenty-year-old demon; he should be able to get to his own food by now.

His butler was right, anyway—he had to stop relying on Sebastian to do everything for him. He had to plan ahead, for when—if—he was left alone. He had to fend for himself.

Again he knelt down in front of the body. He hesitated; the woman, while obviously a first-grade prostitute, was gorgeous, and Ciel felt a bit embarrassed by the position he was about to find himself in. But he shrugged it off and lowered his head as he searched for the soul's location. She may have been pretty, but she was very much dead.

When he inhaled and immediately tasted that sweet, sweet sin upon his lips, he knew that he was going to succeed this time. He remembered, albeit faintly, the rules Sebastian had given him for devouring souls and he put them into action. His meal was invisible, but in his mouth it was as corporeal as any slice of chocolate cake. He stuck out his tongue, doing his best to wrap it around the evanescent morsel, and pulled it in completely, severing its ties with the body.

The small taste he'd gotten the last time was _nothing _compared to this. The flavor, he thought while he slowly chewed, was every bit as wonderful as Sebastian's best pastry and just as refreshing as his favorite batch of Earl Gray tea. He didn't want it to end, because he would have to wait for another chance to taste this. Still, as he swallowed the last bit of the soul, he felt more sated than he ever had since becoming a demon.

_Delicious_.

He glanced sideways at the heart lying in the grass. He felt full . . . too full to eat anything else, and it looked unappetizing compared to the meal he had just finished. It was pointless then, he figured, to eat it when he didn't want to. With that in mind, he rose to his feet and left the body on the ground uncaringly. Sebastian said he would take care of it anyway.

He was met at the door by his butler, who looked him over once to check for a mess. "What are you doing out here?" Ciel demanded incredulously. "Aren't you supposed to be watching them?"

"I informed them that I needed to find where you had wondered off to," Sebastian replied smoothly. "They assume you went to find something for yourself to eat and you were taking too long."

"That was your excuse, then," he sighed. "How typical."

The butler raised an eyebrow in amusement. "The best way to hide the truth is to keep it as close to the truth as possible, after all. How was it?"

"How was what?"

"The taste of your first soul. I can tell you ate it; the scent lingers in your body for a few hours afterwards. Was it not delectable?"

"It was better than eating the heart, of course," Ciel brushed off. It had been too fantastic to put into words, anyway. Surely Sebastian would understand that. "You shouldn't leave those three on their own like that. We need to get back to them."

"You should go ahead, of course. I have a . . . bit of a mess to clean up, I daresay."

"Your mess alone. I never touched the body."

"I see that." Sebastian pointedly looked over Ciel's spotless outfit. "You go ahead; I will be along in just a moment."

"Don't take too long."

Ciel retreated back into the house, running his tongue over his lips to get the rest of the soul's taste while he did. He sincerely hoped that the children wouldn't be able to smell it on him; he had no way of explaining an excuse out of that. Then again . . . what did a soul smell like to humans, anyway? He couldn't recall a time when he'd been able to smell such a thing. It was probably something only supernatural being picked up; it was food, after all.

A shrill ringing sound broke through Ciel's thoughts. He looked in alarm at the telephone, just a few feet away from him, in slight fear. Who would be calling them? To the public eye, he'd died a long time ago . . . if he thought about it, the only likely callers would be Elizabeth—to check up—or someone from the manor. It was safe to answer it, then. He glanced around nervously; Sebastian always picked it up, so he wasn't sure how . . . but he couldn't be rude to the caller . . .

Hesitantly he answered the call, speaking into the mouthpiece with hardly-restrained nervousness. "Hello?" he said quietly, not entirely sure how to answer.

"How rude," the sultry sound of a woman's voice immediately responded. "Do servants in your manor never know how to answer phones the correct way?"

It was a stranger. Ciel squeezed hard on the receiver, looking around nervously for any glance of Sebastian. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I do believe that is a question I don't feel obligated to answer, little boy. Is this the household of Michaelis?"

"_No_," he spat out in annoyance. Who _was _this woman, calling and not even knowing who the master of the house was? "This is the Phantomhive residence. Sebastian Michaelis works for me. Furthermore, I _am _inclined to know who you are if you are calling my home. It is only polite."

"So Sebastian is the name given to him, then . . . how oddly distasteful." There was a soft sigh on the other end. "I can't tell you who I am, little boy. The truth would scar you. Now, if you could let me speak to either Michaelis or your . . . master—"

"I am the master of this household. And if this truth has something to do with not being human, then I can assure you that I have long since been scarred." He leaned back against the wall, eyes flickering over to the door that led outside. Sebastian needed to hurry . . .

"Hmmm? So _you're _the contractor?"

"I contracted with Sebastian a long time ago, yes. Is that really so important?"

"Ah . . . and that also means, I suppose, that you are the newest addition to our . . . _loving_ family of demons. You're a Once-Human."

Ciel growled low in his throat. That was information that could only be known by someone like . . . "Who are you?" he demanded one more time.

"A demon, of course," the woman laughed. "And if you want an occupation, I am the Lord of Hell's secretary."

"Satan?"

"At least you have _some _knowledge as to what goes on in the underworld," was the sarcastic reply. "Yes, Satan. Now. I need to talk to . . . _Sebastian_, as you call him."

"He's busy—" He paused as the door opened and Sebastian, clothing as impeccably neat as ever, stepped in. "Never mind. Please wait a moment."

"Young Master?" Sebastian questioned in confusion. Surely the image of _Ciel_, of all people, holding the telephone was unnerving and unusual. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" the boy scoffed. "No one else was around, so I answered it. Here." He shoved the receiver into the butler's hands and turned to head back down to the kitchen. It wasn't any of his business anyway. It had something to do with the demons . . . the demons that knew what they were doing. Still, it was a little odd that Sebastian was called while he had a contract. He was a solitary demon, too . . .

"Where were you?" Niam hollered, without giving time for Ciel to even finish shutting the door. The toddler had made a complete mess of his food during the Earl's absence—he vaguely wondered how that small strawberry managed to find its way to the top of the cupboards—and obviously had not eaten all that much.

"Did you not like Sebastian's cooking?" he asked instead, avoiding the question.

"There was a lot of food," Isaiah explained, pushing his empty plate away from him. "Niam never eats all his food."

"You usually don't either," Charlotte jibed.

"It tasted good!"

"Sebastian is a good chef," Ciel agreed reluctantly. He was . . . and it would be wonderful, he thought, to be able to taste that wonderful cooking again. He knew it wouldn't happen anytime soon, or maybe not at all, but . . . he could dream.

"Where is he?" Charlotte questioned, breaking into his thoughts.

"Taking a call. He'll be back shortly." He frowned even as he said it. That woman . . . she might have been a demon and no threat to him anymore, but he didn't trust her. He felt like she was going to mess something up . . . what, he didn't know exactly, but that phone call triggered something in his nerves.

"Should we wait for him here?" Isaiah mused. "He said we could go outside after we ate . . ."

"You should probably wait," Ciel agreed. "It seems the call was important."

He leaned against the wall, his eyes flickering nervously to the door in the hopes that Sebastian would come waltzing in at that moment. When he didn't, Ciel sighed unhappily. For some strange reason he felt like he shouldn't have let Sebastian take that call. He never should have picked it up in the first place. How did that demon know where his butler was? It wasn't like Sebastian had ever left to _tell _anybody.

"What's wrong?"

The three children were standing directly in front of him—when had they moved?—with identical looks of concern crossing their features. He smiled awkwardly at them and shook his head. "It's nothing. Niam, you should wash your face before you go outside; you wouldn't want that to stain."

"I have food on my face?" the toddler exclaimed, aghast.

"Your whole meal is on your face," Isaiah giggled.

"Where is the wash room?" Lottie asked, taking Niam's hand into hers.

"There's one in that door back there, so the servants can clean their hands after they finish making the meals. You can use that one." He pointed in the direction of the indicated room. "I will wait right here for Sebastian, and then you can go outside."

Sebastian came in as soon as the door to the wash room had clicked shut behind the three. Ciel straightened up nonchalantly. It appeared nothing was wrong, at the very least; his fears were in vain. There was nothing to worry about—

"Young Master," the butler said quietly. "We need to talk. Privately."

_Shit._

"Is it about the call?" he asked calmly.

"It is. The children should not be permitted to hear what I have to say. We should go into the hall." Sebastian raised his voice slightly. "Miss Charlotte, would you and your brothers please remain in the kitchen for a moment? I have a matter to discuss with the Young Master."

"Let us know when you're done!" the girl replied from the wash room.

Ciel followed the elder demon out of the room; as he closed the door behind him, he asked coldly, "Was that really Satan's secretary or whatever?"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow in exasperation. "Who, Narcissa? Of course. She is not one for lying, though she does, I admit, like to tease. Now, the reason for this call . . ."

"They weren't mistaking you for the one that turned me into a demon, were they?"

"Of course not. They would not care about someone being made into a demon. Once-Humans are so rare that Satan would rather praise the maker instead of punish them."

Ciel snorted; that was just ridiculous. "In that case, it's a good thing Hannah and Alois are dead."

"Young Master, I have been called back into hell."

He froze, hardly comprehending what had just been said. Called back . . .? But no, that was impossible . . . wasn't it? After all, Sebastian couldn't leave his side . . . "But!" he protested desperately. "You can't go, the contract is still in place! Is it not impossible to leave your master once you have formed the contract?"

"You are overreacting just a bit. It is not like I'm leaving permanently. I promised I wouldn't, didn't I?"

He fell silent, even if he didn't really believe a word of that. Eventually Sebastian was going to leave for good; it was painfully obvious.

"Allow me to explain," Sebastian continued, having not seen the look of devastation Ciel currently sported. "There is a bit of a . . . dispute going on in the underworld. A few of the lower demons are trying to overthrow Satan. It is nothing unusual; it happens once every few decades, I suppose. They have asked me to return to aid in calming down the disruption. Also . . . I need to verify that you are a demon. Satan keeps a record of all demons; he must be a bit annoyed that you have not shown up in his list as of yet."

"How long is this supposed to take?"

"A few hours, at the most. You know me, Young Master. I am always efficient in getting things done."

"And when do you have to leave?"

The butler sighed softly. "Right now. If you were not currently occupied I would bring you along with me. Young Master, please believe me when I say that I will be right back. I know you are thinking that I won't at the moment."

Ciel bit his lip. "You only willingly left my side once . . . Sebastian, I don't know if I can deal with this. A-and anyway! You expect me to watch these three by myself? Sebastian, you know I can't—"

"It is only for a few hours, of course," Sebastian brushed off. "I am not asking you to prepare dinner for them. I should be back long before then. Just let them play in the garden for awhile; it does not even take any effort to do such a thing."

"I don't want you to leave," he admitted bluntly.

"To be honest, I do not want to go either. However, I fear I have no choice in the matter." Sebastian bent down to Ciel's height and gently placed a hand on his cheek. Ciel's eye trailed down to the hand, feeling his face heat up. "I shall return as quickly as possible."

"What are you doing?" he breathed awkwardly.

"Giving you a proper goodbye." There, that telltale smirk had emerged again, and Ciel knew what was going to come of this. He'd seen that smile several times over the past week. Sebastian was constantly trying to tease him, dropping hints about the words he'd spoken that night. He knew he wasn't going to hear Sebastian say such a thing again—it was against his personality to speak such cheesy words—but he could tell that he was trying to show what he felt through his actions. But _still_, it was embarrassing, and Ciel didn't know what to think of everything that was going on.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize what was going on until his eye settled back on Sebastian's face . . . which was now barely an inch from his own. He felt his face flush even more, and he winced, waiting for a bruising kiss like the one that had shaken him up so thoroughly before. He held his breath . . .

The kiss was anything but rough.

It was sweet, gentle, and soft, and he nervously looked at the butler in shock. This was something he had not been expecting at all. Why was he . . .?

In the end, it didn't matter. It was so kind a kiss that he found himself appalled by it, even as he pressed his mouth back against Sebastian's. He didn't deserve this kindness. Hadn't he been nothing but an ass to Sebastian? A disappointment? He'd done nothing to earn the demon's affection. He had done nothing to earn his own affection.

"I will be back soon, I assure you," Sebastian breathed softly. "Should that tide you over until then?"

"I-idiot," he stuttered uncomfortably. "You didn't have to do that. A simple goodbye would have sufficed."

A soft snort was his reply. "That would have left you unsatisfied in the state you are in. Don't let those three out of your sight while I am gone; I fear they will cause more trouble for you than necessary."

"I don't know about that. They're very well behaved."

"Be careful, in any case." Sebastian straightened up before kneeling down into that submitting position that Ciel had grown to hate. He placed his hand over his heart and said solemnly, "I am truly sorry for leaving my master in such a time. Punish me in any way you see fit upon my return."

"Just go," he finally sighed. "I told you to cut the butler act. I just . . . want you to act normal, alright? At least for right now."

"I shall take my leave without further comment, then."

But he kissed Ciel one more time, on the forehead, before heading towards the front door, and in the boy's opinion, that gesture in itself was one last comment.

Ciel frowned and reached up to touch the spot on his forehead. It was unnerving to see Sebastian acting so gentle with him. He was a demon; shouldn't he be more . . . violent, at the least? Besides that, all of these gestures were bringing back that same thought: what if Sebastian really did care for him in such a way?

He immediately repressed those questions; he couldn't bear to think like this when there was so much going on. He would have time to think about it later, when Sebastian was back and the children were gone. Sebastian kissing him was . . . something he'd almost expected at this point, because he'd done it before.

"Can we come out yet?" someone demanded from the kitchen. "It's boring in here."

Niam. With a soft sigh Ciel opened the door for them; the three children came rushing out hastily. "Why did we have to stay in there?" Isaiah pouted.

"Sebastian had something to discuss with me," the Earl responded professionally.

"Where is he now?" Charlotte asked curiously. "He was just out here with you a minute ago . . ."

"He had to attend to some personal business, I'm afraid. He won't be back for a few hours." Ciel offered a tired smile. "I suppose you want to go play outside now?"

"No," Charlotte announced. Ciel froze; the girl's demeanor had changed the second he had announced Sebastian's lack of attendance. Suddenly she was serious, and so much more mature . . . far too mature for someone of her age. "Rather, Earl Phantomhive, I think we should have a very serious talk. Just the four of us, without your butler around. Isaiah, Niam, don't you agree?"

"What . . ." Ciel breathed in confusion.

"I really thought you would be more observant than this. You really have fallen below your standards, haven't you?" The girl smirked in a way that would have but Sebastian to shame, her eyes piercing through Ciel's so hard he was certain she could see the soul inside of him. "Why don't we go to the parlor? It will be much more comfortable to talk in there."

He really didn't know what else to do but to follow.

**

* * *

**

Isaiah was very well just as frightening as his elder sister, Ciel quickly realized. The eleven-year-old took his place in one of the chairs with his back straight, hands in his lap, and eyes that glared at Ciel just as calmly. Only Niam seemed genuinely confused as to what was happening; he had taken a seat on Ciel's lap, staring at his siblings with a cocked head.

"Lottie," the toddler said quietly, "what's going on?"

"We're going to tell him, Niam."

The child froze instantly. "But Father said—"

"Since when have we ever agreed with Father's way of thinking?" Charlotte turned her attention to Ciel then; he vaguely wondered if he could sink further back into the chair than he already was if she stared long enough. "Before we say anything, Earl, I want you to know that we are all on your side. We have no intentions of following in our Father's footsteps. However, I am going to be blunt."

"I don't . . . understand what you are talking about," Ciel muttered. "Why are you acting so—?"

"You're a demon, right?"

He stopped talking midsentence, his mouth agape in horror. It was wrong, this whole scenario . . . they were just children, they shouldn't have known! He thought he'd hidden that side of himself, but if they had _noticed_ . . . who was to say that others wouldn't?

"IF you're wondering how we know," Isaiah piped up, "it's not because we could tell. You blend in with the human world perfectly. We know because our father told us."

"The first time he called you a demon, we never imagined that he was being literal." Charlotte's eyes finally left Ciel, and she turned to stare out of the nearby window. "We thought he just hated you bad enough to call you a demon. It was only when he tried to explain it to Mother that we understood. You never really died that night twenty years ago. Well, you did, but not in the normal sense. Your humanity was the only thing to go. Am I right?"

He didn't want to answer, not to three children who shouldn't have had any idea . . . but the truth was already out there. It was pointless to hide it. Swallowing thickly, he nodded.

Isaiah explained, "It's not as if we hate you or anything. We know it's not your fault you became a demon. I don't think any human would want that kind of a life . . . or whatever you want to call it."

"But . . . how do you know about everything? Ordinary humans wouldn't . . . wouldn't understand. Sebastian said we're supposed to kill any humans who know about us."

"We're not human," Niam spoke out.

"That's right." Charlotte faced forward again with a smile. "Our father is, unfortunately, a demon. And that, dear Earl, means that the three of us are half demons."

_What?_

It was so impossible . . . utterly unreal, and yet, everything suddenly clicked into place. Why Edward Childs was digging into his past, why he smelled the way he did, why his _children _smelled the way they did. The truth had been right in front of him the entire time. Sebastian had figured it out right away, of course. And he had to be blind not to see what was going on in front of him.

"Lizzy married a demon?" he asked lowly. "Did they . . ."

"Mother is in no form of a contract; her soul is completely safe. She has no idea about any of this; she didn't even believe Father when he tried to tell her about you. However . . . I do know that she was used. He doesn't love her; he is only using her as a means to create half demons."

Ciel gritted his teeth angrily. After _everything_ he'd done to protect her from the supernatural world, she'd ended up wrapped in something like _this_? It was wrong, on so many levels.

Isaiah stood up and moved next to his sister. "We aren't here to talk about Mother, though. Earl, our father wants to kill you, and we want to stop him."

"Why does he want to kill me?"

"We don't know that. He won't tell anyone. All we know is that he's dangerous to you and your butler. Earl, our father is a Pureblood demon, the most powerful of our kind other than yourself. We don't know the extent of his strength, but unless you can tune in to your powers as a Once Human you will never beat him."

Ciel scoffed lightly at this. "Sebastian has beaten every opponent that faced him during his time with me, as far as I am aware."

"You've never seen him battle a Pureblood, I'm sure," Charlotte denied. "Fighting against one of your own kind is not easy, and—"

"You're wrong." Ciel slowly raised his hand to his contracted eye; he didn't want to remember the events of that night. "Sebastian fought and killed Claude Faustus, who was also a Pureblood. I am certain he can defeat your father as well."

"Claude Faustus interfered with your contract to Sebastian, didn't he?" Isaiah's gaze was now trained on Ciel's eye patch.

"If it weren't for Claude, my soul would have been devoured by Sebastian and none of this would have happened. He is the sole reason things have turned out like this, in my opinion."

"That contract is what keeps Sebastian tied to you even now, I see."

"I . . . hate having him beside me by force. He cannot leave, which I do not believe to be fair. I want to grant him freedom again."

"Oh?" Charlotte smiled again, this time with a clear intent behind the gesture. "You feel burdened by this?"

"That is something I would rather not talk about." He quickly lowered his hand from his eye.

"I apologize; I will not ask that question again. Earl . . . to prove that we are indeed half demons, we would like to show you something special that Niam can do. Niam?"

The toddler climbed into a standing position on Ciel's lap; his cherubic face was suddenly just in front of the other's. Abruptly the child pulled the black eye patch away, leaving Ciel's contract agonizingly exposed to everyone in the room. He gasped and futilely squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to hide it.

"We already know it's there," Isaiah laughed. "There's no need to hide it."

There was a fluttery touch on his eyelid; he reluctantly opened his eyes, glancing guardedly at the child in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"Granting your wish," Niam giggled . . . and then pushed his thumbs into Ciel's right eye. Ciel shrieked in pain, trying to shove the hands away from him. It hurt, it _hurt_, all the way through his body it hurt. It wasn't supposed to feel with way. Just _what _was happening? He weakly locked his other eye on Isaiah and Charlotte; they were still in the same place as before.

The last thing he saw before the pain forced him to black out were the cold smiles on their faces, and that scared him more than anything else that had happened over the past day.

**

* * *

**

**(1) During the Edwardian Era, country homes for the nobility were used less in preference for the town houses, because the nobles basically took over London. Commoners were pushed into the outskirts of the city and the social life for the nobility within London became more frequent. Many of them actually moved from their country homes into the city to stay.**

**(2) Clothing became less formal after the Victorian Era, because more people liked to play sports and wanted their clothes to be more flexible. The style changed drastically. **

**(3) Edvard Grieg lived from 1844 to 1908, one year before this fanfic takes place. (Wikipedia says he died in 1907, but my music book says 1908, and I'd sooner believe that then Wiki XD) He died of a long-term illness, and his most popular piece was **_**Piano Concerto in A minor**_**. **

**(4) I don't know how many of you have ever taken voice lessons, but there's always a mirror somewhere in the room so that the person singing can look at their own expressions and posture. I'm only assuming that someone in the Phantomhive household took voice lessons at some point in time (it probably would have been Rachel), but since Ciel doesn't change the decorations of his homes, the mirror would be there. As I said, this is just guesswork; I'm going on the thought that a lot of nobles studied voice at a young age (including Queen Victoria and such). **

**OKAY. **

**It's a bit of a shorter chapter than usual (I normally aim for about 12k words, but this one is about 10k), because I didn't want to move past this point. I know everything seems a little muddy and confusing right now, but most of it is going to be explained in the next chapter. Also . . . it's kind of obvious what Niam did to Ciel, but I'm not going to state it anyway. XD **

**That being said, this is an earlier update than usual! It normally takes me around a month to spit one out for you guys (since I work on five different fics at once) but I started this early, and so here it is, at least a week ahead of schedule. **

**Polka dot: **I agree entirely, which is why I started this fic. I feel like there are too many Post Season II fics that haven't been explored further than "Ha. Suck it, demon, you're my servant for eternity now."

**Namikaze44: **Aha, that's actually a really interesting theory! That's not it, but . . . actually I kind of like that idea. XD

**Until next month! Thanks for reading! Oh, and don't be afraid to answer my replies to your reviews, because I'd love to talk to you guys. My readers being awesome sauce and making me feel good inside and all that. **

**~Shadow**


	7. Chapter Six: Lonely

**Chapter Six: Lonely**

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and all of the characters involved belong to Toboso Yana. The only characters that are mine are Niam, Isaiah, Charlotte, and Edward. **

* * *

From the moment he woke up he felt different than before. He felt more complete, like he had just regained a part of him thought to be lost forever. He felt free . . . like he wasn't tied down to anything anymore. He could do anything he wanted to, _anything at all_, and there would be nothing holding him back. Nothing to come back to. He was his own . . . he owned all of himself.

And he didn't like it one bit.

There was something missing at the same time that he was whole again. Something that he knew he should have with him, despite its oddity. As much as his body felt whole again, _he _didn't feel whole. He felt . . . he felt like he had lost part of himself. And he knew, before even making a move, what was wrong.

With a small moan he tried to open his eyes. His left eyelid flickered open without a problem, but the right stayed stubbornly closed, rendering him half blind. It wasn't anything he was unused to, but it was different than normal. When he tentatively reached a hand up to feel at the eye, he found it swollen and puffy. If he pressed slightly, he met no resistance, and he had to stop himself from cramming his finger into his eye. It was . . . missing.

With a frown he flickered his working eye upwards . . . and managed to look straight into the faces of three worried children. "Are you alright?" the youngest one demanded; it was quickly followed by a, "Hush, Niam. Give him time to wake up."

And then he remembered.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded groggily, attempting to push himself upright. He was in his bed, in his room . . . he wondered just how long he'd been out of commission for. Lizzy would have his head if she found out he hadn't been watching them properly . . .

Charlotte sat back with a tentative smile and glanced over at her youngest brother. "I am afraid Niam isn't very good at doing that just yet. He was supposed to remove the Contract _without _destroying your eye—"

"Contract?" Ciel asked shakily. "What did you do with the Contract?" He knew, _of course he knew_, and yet that didn't stop him from asking anyway, hoping against hope that . . .

"Half demons can reverse Contracts made by demons," Isaiah boldly proclaimed. "Sorry about your eye, though. At least it'll grow back."

He hardly even heard the last part of that statement, much less understood it. Half demons could erase Contracts . . . had the answer really been that simple? Surely Undertaker would have known something about that, if it were so blatantly obvious. All the research he had done to get to this point was practically useless now. He'd finally gotten what he had wanted: Sebastian was free from him, free to do what he wanted, and now . . .

Now Sebastian was gone.

He was going to be alone, wasn't he? He didn't want to be by himself. He wasn't ready, far from it. He couldn't fend for himself. And Sebastian . . . even if he had promised not to leave him, Ciel was sure that he had already gotten a taste of what he used to have as an unbound demon. He wouldn't come back to a spoiled brat; he probably couldn't wait to get away from him for that matter. And now, apparently, he had.

"How . . . how long has it been?" he asked quietly.

"You mean, since you passed out?" Charlotte replied calmly. "One day."

His unneeded breath caught in his throat, and he squeezed his eye shut as a strange sense of pain overtook his mind. One day . . . and Sebastian had promised to be back within a few hours of leaving. He was right. Sebastian wasn't going to come back to him. Now that he was certain of that, his fate seemed so much more dire. He was . . . scared shitless, to say the least.

Tears pricked in the corner of his working eye, welling up to a painful stand before he had time to realize what he was beginning to do. He hadn't cried in so many years . . . not since he had been locked in a cage, a miserable, pitiful, helpless sacrifice for an occult group. Was he really going to start crying again after that long just because a bloody demon wasn't going to come back to him? He had known the consequences of breaking the Contract, he'd known for awhile, so why . . . why was it affecting him this strongly?

"Sebastian didn't come back, did he?" he asked shakily; he could hardly manage to contain his trembling. He didn't _want _to know the answer . . . he already knew it . . . but he still had to ask. He had to be certain.

"I'm afraid not," Charlotte whispered sheepishly.

"Get out."

The three children did not hesitate to rise from their seats, glancing at each other silently. Niam looked like he was about to cry himself—doubtless he was upset about causing the entire ordeal—but the toddler held it in and allowed himself to be ushered out of the bedroom. Charlotte, however, paused in the doorway, turning back with such a firm stare that Ciel yanked his gaze down into his lap, utterly appalled that she could see through him. "Cry all you want," the girl stated coldly, "but just remember that it was what you wanted."

And then all of his boundaries, the rules he had set for himself . . . they snapped. He was sobbing like he had never forgotten how to, his hand clamped over his mouth to muffle the embarrassingly loud sounds he was making. It _hurt_, knowing that he would never see Sebastian again. Demon or not, he was the one who had brought Ciel back from the brink of insanity. He had rescued Ciel from death, nursed him back to health in those trying times, and taught him to become every ounce of the nobleman his father had been. Sebastian had taught him how to _function_ again. How to be cold and calculating . . . how to be like a _demon_. He could not simply let this go, not when there was so much involved.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that he had not _really _wanted this. A life without Sebastian was just like going into a coma and withering away. It was simply impossible to go on like normal, but ne knew he had to. He just . . . couldn't get away from the horrifying truth that Sebastian was gone from his life, and he wouldn't be returning.

That he was sure of.

_Hell_, he felt pitiful for acting in such a childish manner. Sebastian would have attempted to knock some sense into him. "You are acting foolish, My Lord," he would have scoffed, in a way that made had always made Ciel feel completely inferior to him. "Do you really believe that crying will do you any good? Pitiful."

He knew it was, and he agreed entirely. But at the same time, he just couldn't bring himself to stop. He was selfish, wishing Sebastian were there for his own reasons, but that was the way he was. He wanted Sebastian to himself. He wanted the butler to stay with him and keep him from the horrid darkness that was threatening to close in on him. To be alone was unbearable. He didn't want to be this way.

But Sebastian? Sebastian would probably glean amusement from this, and that was all.

It was the way of a demon.

It was a couple hours before he could bring himself to stop the flow of tears, fumble to pull his eye patch over a swollen eye, and climb out of the safe confines of his bed. He was wearing the same outfit as he had yesterday, but he did not care enough to dress more presentably. He reluctantly left the temporary shelter that was his room and stumbled down the stairs, half blind as he'd never been before. Upon reaching the bottom step, he noticed the door to the parlor open: the three children were waiting for him.

He almost turned back around.

"Have you managed to contain yourself, Earl?" Charlotte asked curtly. He could almost see the distain dripping from her voice . . . and it made him angry.

"I wasn't ready," Ciel hissed, plopping down into a chair in the most undignified manner he could muster. "I said I wanted to break the Contract, but I gave no specific time range. That did not mean I wanted it done at that very moment. Do you ever think before you act?"

"It would have just hurt you more if you had waited any longer. Can't you see? We did you a favor—"

"Charlotte, please," Isaiah interrupted with a soft glare towards his sister. Someone, Ciel was pleased to note, had not been happy with the arrangements she had made. "The Earl's problem is not our main concern at the moment. You know we have a much more pressing matter on our hands. And besides, listen to him. He is making a valid point. It was obvious that he wasn't ready when we asked him."

"What are you talking about?" Ciel demanded. "What concern?"

"Our mother," the middle child explained quietly. "They aren't back yet."

A tiny hand grabbed a hold of Ciel's leg; he glanced down to see Niam's snotty-nosed, tearful-eyed face. Obviously he hadn't been the only one crying . . . "I'm scared," he sniffed. "They should have been back by now. What if Father did something bad?"

"I thought it was odd from the beginning," Charlotte admitted; Ciel was relieved to see that she had dropped the argument for the time being. "Father never shows any form of endearment to our mother. When he asked to take her on a date I didn't know what to think. I still don't. I can only hope he does not have any ill intentions. We are not heartless, even if we are half demon. She may just be a human, and food to us, but we do love her. Very much so, in fact. If he has Contracted with her . . . or worse, eaten her soul, I do not think I will be able to contain my rage. And if that happens . . . Father will kill me. I cannot stand up to him."

"Do you still love her?" Isaiah asked curiously, and the topic moved to something less frightening for just a moment.

"I never did love her enough to marry her," Ciel snorted weakly. "But . . . in my own way, I loved her. Time will not change that. Lizzy is still my . . . well, my very precious cousin. I still see her as she was before I left, whether her appearance has changed or not. I . . . to know that she is involved in something such as this . . ."

"So you will help us." Charlotte smoothly jumped to her feet, her green eyes trained pleadingly on his single one. Ciel could see that the girl was absolutely nerve-wracked, and it was probably the main reason why she had acted with such a temper to his own issue. The look in her bright orbs . . . it almost perfectly mirrored his own feelings at the moment.

"I don't see what I can do to aid you," he sighed eventually, sinking back into his chair. Without Sebastian, he was unsure if he could do much of anything. He had always let the butler take care of this sort of thing . . . well, disregarding the time Lizzy had gotten kidnapped by the strange puppet man called Drocell, and even then he had needed Sebastian's help to rescue her. He could not do that sort of thing by himself.

Elizabeth's children, on the other hand, seemed to have a bit of a different opinion on the matter. "You can get information!" Isaiah nearly shouted out, a tad bit too excited for his own good. "You're good at that, right? Because you used to be Queen Victoria's watchdog. You know people who can give us information about Mother. If we were by ourselves, we wouldn't even know where to start. At least you have an _idea_."

They had a point on that manner, as much as Ciel would have liked to argue it. Sebastian was the action part of their master-butler team; he always took care of the brunt of the case while Ciel examined the information leading up to that climax. He had always been good at manipulating people into giving up any secrets they might have had. Isaiah was right; this was something he _could _do to help find Elizabeth.

And if he could save her on his own, then maybe this time . . . Sebastian would not have left him completely useless.

"Alright," he finally complied. "When would you propose to get started?"

"Thank you so much, Earl!" Charlotte squeaked happily. Then, with a sharp clearing of her throat, she controlled her wilder side. "As soon as possible, preferably. I would rather not let Father be in control of our mother for longer than necessary."

"Very well. Isaiah, could you please call a carriage to the front? Since there are no servants present we shall have to make do with such things on our own."

As Isaiah nodded and ran out of the parlor, Charlotte spoke up once again. "Do you have any idea of where to start?"

"Your house," Ciel replied easily. It was the first thing that had come into his mind, to be honest. He had learned a long time ago that the best way to learn anything was to investigate the area the culprit stayed at the most. "With any faint luck they'll have just returned and wanted some time to themselves before coming to pick you up. If not, perhaps one of the servants know something."

"If that is the case, dear Earl," Lottie giggled, running her eyes over his form disgustedly, "then I suggest you dress yourself in something a bit more appropriate. Don't you agree?"

And as Ciel glanced down at his rumpled attire, the only thing that popped into his mind was . . . thank goodness Sebastian had taught him how to put his own clothes on.

* * *

Niam clambered on top of Ciel's lap as he stared out of the carriage window, chattering on excitedly about how much the Earl would love their home. Ciel himself was all but silent, however, choosing instead to stare sightlessly at the wall across from him. He felt vulnerable without Sebastian or the Contract near him. There were so many things he was beginning to think of, reasons why he was not safe without Sebastian to protect him. He was worried about getting hurt or captured . . . because he knew he wouldn't be able to take care of a situation like that by himself. Sebastian had always been there to save him from those threats. Despite the fact that he was a demon, he believed that he would not last very long in the world without someone to back him up.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he still harbored the hope that Sebastian had not really abandoned him. Maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe he had been forced to stay longer. Maybe Sebastian had been so alarmed about the Contract breaking that he had wanted to do research on it. He did not want to think that the elder demon would forget about him. And he would probably cling to that hope until it became quite clear that Sebastian really wasn't going to come back.

"I'm sorry," Charlotte finally breathed, breaking the silence that had seemed to fall in the carriage through the past few minutes. "I would not have asked Niam to do it if I had known you weren't ready. You were close to that demon, weren't you?"

Ciel chose not to answer that question, instead letting a soft frown grace his face. He knew that if he said it out loud, it would only make the pain in his chest that much worse. "Will the eye be fine?" he asked instead; he wanted to appear concerned enough about it to let the other question slide away.

"Yes. It will regenerate on its own . . . but it will probably hurt for awhile. When it does come back it will look just like your other eye. There will be no sign of a Contract at all."

"There was another demon I met a long time ago . . . her name was Hanna. Her eye had been gouged out, but it never came back. She always wore a bandage over the eye to hide it. Why is that different?"

"She may have chosen not to let it grow back . . . though for whatever reason, I would not know." Charlotte, from her seat across from him, shrugged. "It had nothing to do with not being able to. Even the fledglings have that power, at the very least."

"We're here!" Niam yelled in the small carriage, effectively ending the conversation and dragging a wince from Ciel at the sheer volume of the toddler's voice.

Isaiah sat up straight, looking much more alert of his surroundings than he had before. Obviously, Ciel wasn't the only one who didn't want to be here . . . "Does it look like anyone is living there at the moment?" the middle child demanded.

"No . . . but here comes the steward. Maybe he knows where they are." The toddler jumped out of Ciel's lap with a large smile, moving to stand impatiently at the door of the carriage before it had stopped.

A memory came surfacing to Ciel's mind then, when he had done just the same thing. Aggravated at Sebastian, he had risen to his feet and stood in front of the carriage, expecting it to stop and the carriage driver could let him out before Sebastian had the pleasure of doing so. Instead, the carriage had come to an abrupt halt, and the door had flown open . . . and needless to say, Ciel had ended up on the ground. He suffered nothing more than a scraped knee, but it had taken a blow to his pride and . . .

Well, it was dangerous.

"Niam," Ciel quickly protested with that in mind. "That is not safe. The carriage has yet to stop moving."

"It can't be that dangerous," Charlotte brushed off. "The door is firmly shut. What is there to be cautious about?"

"It does not matter. If the carriage stops too fast the door could fall open." He reached for the toddler, hoping to halt him before something bad could happen.

"You sound like you have experience in that aspect, dear Earl."

And, even though he had just thought about it, the fact that it was mentioned out loud had him blushing profusely; the memory always embarrassed him more than he would like to admit. But to answer Charlotte, he explained vaguely, "I got a little impatient one time." He pulled Niam away from the carriage's door, instead seating him back on the bench beside him. "It was far from a pleasant experience."

Almost to prove his point—although if he didn't know any better, there were otherworldly forces at work—the carriage stopped with a jolt that had all four of them jerking forward, and the door came flying open, thudding loudly against the outside of it. If Niam had been standing in front of it, he would have doubtlessly been thrown out onto the ground. The toddler let out a surprised squeak and immediately clung to Ciel's arm.

"I . . . see exactly what you mean," Charlotte mumbled, staring at the open door with wide eyes.

The Childs' steward approached the carriage hastily, yelling something to the driver that sounded somewhat vulgar and offensive. After a moment, he turned to the occupants of the carriage, and his demeanor changed instantly from anger into a cheerful smile. "Young Lords, my Lady. I had wondered when you would be returning home."

The man was not British; Ciel could see that immediately, judging by the accent and the dark face. The servant reminded him somewhat of Tanaka—rest in peace—and he found himself wondering if the steward was from the same country as the older man. He certainly _looked _Asian, but one could never tell anymore.

"Mr. Tsubune, this is Earl Ciel Phantomhive." Charlotte gestured in Ciel's direction as she was helped down from the carriage. Ciel offered a tired smile in greeting but little more. "He was the founder of the Funtom company. Earl, this is Tsubune Childs. He has taken on our surname, as he has no family of his own here in Britain. However, we prefer to call him Tsubune and would advise that you do the same."

"It is a pleasure to have the privilege to meet such an esteemed nobleman, Earl Phantomhive," the steward recited warmly, and he held out a hand to help him down as well.

Ciel hesitated at the extended appendage. The only person he had ever allowed to assist him in this fashion was Sebastian, and it was not just because he was there. It may have been a bit selfish of him, but he didn't particularly desire for anyone else to do his butler's job, even if he was gone. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't get down on his own, and if he wanted to prove his authority . . .

Even so, he accepted the offered hand on the pretense that it would have been severely rude to decline. He nodded at the servant as a way of returning the kind greeting and then proceeded to adjust his inconspicuous black attire while he waited for the rest of the children. Once everyone had dismounted from the carriage, Ciel glanced at Charlotte for instructions; he felt far too awkward breaking the ice on his own. He never was good at initiating conversations with strangers.

"Mr. Tsubune, have our parents arrived home as of yet?" the girl questioned innocently.

"I am afraid not, Lady Charlotte, and it quite worries me. I do so hope nothing has happened to delay their return. Shall I dismiss the carriage driver and send him back to—"

"No, that will not be necessary," Ciel declined swiftly. "We will not be staying long. Please have the driver wait for us here, and we shall be back momentarily."

"Very well, My Lord." The steward bowed once more to all of them before he moved off to inform the driver of Ciel's order.

"Your servants are quite the obedient ones," he commented idly as Charlotte led the way up the front walk. "Mine would have questioned the reason for the sudden guest and likely would have tried to kill them before letting them in."

"Father has them all scared to death," Isaiah sheepishly admitted. "They've learned not to question anything the household does. They know something isn't right about us, and whenever Father is home, a servant goes missing . . ."

Ciel could not help himself from wrinkling his nose in disgust. "He uses his own servants as meals? How absolutely horrid. Does he have no shame?"

"I highly doubt you are any better, Earl." Charlotte paused on the walk to stare at him skeptically. "Or are you above eating commoners?"

"I have always respected my servants as human beings, and each of them has a purpose. Just because they are mere commoners, it does not mean they have no worth. And besides that, they have protected my life and my manor on more than one occasion. Rather, I take my meals in the back alleys of London."

"The prostitutes?" she asked with mild disgust adorning her face. "I suppose that somewhat eases the King's worries, if you think about it. But if he knew, perhaps he would be quite—"

"My faith will always lie with Queen Victoria," Ciel hissed in annoyance. He didn't give a _damn _about such a ridiculous ruler. "Whether King Edward makes a worthy leader or not, the only one I will ever be willing to serve under is my Queen . . . even after death."

"In other words, you serve under no one now. Have you forgotten the ruler of your kind, then? Satan is your leader, at least now."

"I do not have any choice but to serve under Satan," he grumbled regretfully. "Besides the point, what do you—the half demons—eat? I am rather curious."

"Mostly human food." The front door swung open to reveal the family butler, but Charlotte continued to speak, insinuating that the entire household knew of their alternate identities. It was a wonder, Ciel mused, that the servants had not run off screaming at the revelation. "We only need a soul once every three months, I suppose. At least, that is how often we tend to take our meals. You must eat more than Sebastian does, Earl, since you are yet a fledgling."

"I suppose I do," he muttered vaguely. He had never seen Sebastian eat before; he had no earthly idea who big of an appetite the elder demon had. And now . . . now it was unlikely that he would ever find out for himself.

He dutifully stood in place as the butler removed his hat and overcoat from his body. He could have done it himself, but for some reason he could not bring himself to do what Sebastian had always taken upon himself to do. There were so many things that he had expected his butler to do, he realized sadly. He had never thought about all of it when Sebastian was there, and now . . . now he missed even the smallest tasks Sebastian had done for him. It made him feel even more alone than before.

"Does your eye hurt?"

He turned his gaze down to the one asking the question. Niam had not been truly happy since before he had removed the Contract; even Ciel could see that. He wondered if that was because he felt bad for injuring him . . . but it was not in any way the toddler's fault. There was no possible way he could blame the child for what he had done. "Not really," he responded with a forced smile. "It feels fine."

"I . . . I didn't want to do it. I didn't want Mr. Sebby to leave, because . . ." Niam's eyes were focused firmly on the marble flooring, away from anyone who might have been looking at him. "But Lottie . . ."

Ciel hesitantly reached down and took a hold of the toddler's hand. He wasn't really any good at consoling people—other than Lizzy, and only because he had been doing it for most of his early life—but he supposed he could do this much for him. "I said I wanted to break the Contract. If it is anyone's fault, it is mine. It just . . . it is a bit painful to think that I won't be able to see him again. After . . ."

"He was with you for a long time, wasn't he?" Niam questioned innocently.

"Twenty-three years."

"He must have been a good friend," the child mumbled happily. "I bet you'll see him again."

Ciel flinched visibly. Niam surely didn't know what he was saying. Even if he _did _see the other demon again, it would be from afar, where he wouldn't be spotted and possibly _shunned _for coming near him . . .

"So, Earl," Charlotte called jovially, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. She had effectively ended what would have been a disastrous conversation. "What did you want to do here? Mother and Father are not here, so I do not see the point in—"

"I want to see their living quarters."

And instantly, the two elder Childs siblings stiffened, glancing at each other guardedly. "Father said none of us are allowed to enter his room, not for anything," Isaiah nearly whispered. "A-and besides . . . what good will it do to go into his room?"

Ciel scoffed; it was obvious, then, that something was already amiss. "If you are not allowed into his room, then he is quite plainly hiding something," he brushed off. "I am not concerned about that, however. I merely want to see if they packed their bags to leave for any length of time or if everything seems normal."

"But we . . ."

"Isaiah, it is alright." Still, Charlotte made a face, wordlessly announcing that that was not what she had really wanted to say at all. "Father isn't here, so it is not like we can get in trouble anyway." She sighed reluctantly. "Come along, Earl. We will take you."

"What about Lizzy?" Ciel asked in mild curiosity as they made their way up a nearby flight of stairs. Niam was still clutching his hand, his expression taking on a much happier appearance than it had been just a moment ago. "Is she allowed into your father's room?"

"No, even she is not. As you well know, they sleep in separate rooms unless they . . . conduct private matters, to say the least. When they do, he always goes into Mother's room, though it is not proper. I do not think even the servants are allowed inside." They reached the top of the stairs, and immediately Charlotte headed for a second set of steps. "His room is on the top floor," the girl explained without preamble.

"All of the other rooms are on the second floor, even Mother's." Isaiah turned his head back slightly as he spoke. "Sometimes he even has the last flight of stairs blocked off, so the servants can't even walk up there to clean the hall."

"Like right now," Charlotte called in frustration. As she moved off to the side, Ciel stared at their barricade in slight annoyance. From the way it looked, there would not be a way to get to the room anyway. Not unless . . . "I suppose we can't move any further—"

"Excuse me, please."

The girl frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"The very same thing Sebastian would have done if he were here." Ciel eyed the door contemplatively for only a second before he made a move his human body never would have been able to accomplish. He lashed out with his foot, twisting his body to the side. He might have been a small demon, but that did not necessarily mean he couldn't pack a punch; the second his boot connected with the heavy wooden door it shattered, splintering into pieces around them. "I apologize for the mess I have made," he commented smoothly as he stepped around the debris.

"Father is not going to be happy about this . . ." the eldest sibling breathed nervously, but she followed him despite that.

"I highly doubt we will be seeing him anytime soon, based on the way he has been acting towards you three." He frowned. "I believe he intends Elizabeth harm. He would have been back long ago if that were not the case."

"I'm scared to come up here," Niam squeaked nervously in the silence that followed. The toddler anxiously snatched Ciel's hand once again, his blue eyes flickering back and forth in the narrow stairway. "W-What if someone's watching to make sure we don't go in?"

"If someone had been watching, they would have already tried to stop us."

"Unless they're waiting to see what we're going to do," Isaiah hinted, his eyes now searching around just as frantically as his brother's. Both of them were thoroughly spooked, and it just made Ciel even angrier to think that a father would frighten their children in this way.

He shook his head in slight aggravation at Isaiah's statement. "If you do not want to follow me, you are welcome to turn around. I am fairly sure I can find your father's room based on your information. I don't suppose it would take very long."

As expected, they continued to follow him; apparently the prospect of creeping their way back downstairs only to get caught was not very appetizing.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Ciel could immediately tell that the third floor was hardly graced by way of cleanliness. Dust stained the floor and the portraits, dyeing the bright red carpet a moldy brown and gray. Cobwebs decorated the walls as well, wrapping over paintings and peeling the ornate wallpaper from the wall. On top of that, he didn't even want to try to think about all of the _trash_ scattered on the floor. In all . . .

"It certainly does _look_ like a demon lair," he said, mildly amused despite the severity of the situation. "This hall looks horrid."

"Father's room is the one on the left," Charlotte explained quietly. "But Earl, please do not try to break that door down. If he sees it damaged . . ."

Surprisingly—although slightly suspicious—the door was unlocked. The handle turned down with no resistance, and Ciel could not resist a satisfied smirk from breaking out on his face before he pushed his way inside. "Perhaps he forgot to lock it before leaving," he mused with a pointed look.

"Just hurry up," Isaiah hissed uncomfortably.

The outer room looked just like any normal person's would, albeit a bit messier. If Edward Childs had any sort of smarts, however, he would not have hidden anything in a room anyone could manage to stumble into. With that in mind, Ciel glanced briefly at his surroundings before he headed for one of the three doorways leading to different parts of the suite. He was certain that he would find most of his evidence in the bedroom.

The first doorway led to a small, well-used study. Ciel stepped inside curiously, expecting to find a disaster of a workplace just as he had encountered in the hallway. Instead, he found that although the floor was every bit as dusty as the carpet outside, the bookshelves and the desk were completely devoid of filth and trash. Interestedly he lifted a book from its resting place to glance at the title. "The Devil's Guide to Attracting Fear," he read aloud with an accompanying snort. "Now you know what he reads in his free time. He is not afraid to leave out obvious hints like this, is he?"

"Finding out that he has a book like that makes me want to laugh, I admit," Charlotte replied with an amused smile. "But it does not look like he took anything with him."

"Even so, I hardly suspect there is anything of value in here." Ciel glanced around the study once more, trying to ascertain his own statement. But something caught his eye as he did; with an arched eyebrow he made his way over to the odd finding. "A coffin?" he questioned. "What on earth could he want with a coffin?"

He moved to open it, his morbid curiosity taking a hold of him. But just as he was about to check to see if there was anything important inside, he was forcibly yanked backwards by a very wide-eyed four year old. "Don't open it!" the little boy whimpered. "What if there's something nasty in there? I . . ."

"He may be a demon, but I highly doubt he would hide a dead body in his study." Despite that, Ciel left the coffin alone, instead staring at it in puzzlement. Why _was _it there? There was no dust covering the lid, which blatantly told him that it had been moved into the room only recently. Furthermore, the coffin itself looked old . . . a couple decades old, at the least. Obviously it had never been buried. Why hadn't it?

"It's just an old coffin," Isaiah nervously announced. "Maybe Father likes the way it looks. He has a horrible sense of fashion."

"That is the most likely reason," Ciel agreed reluctantly. Surely that was the case; after all, there was nothing particularly special looking about it. A decoration . . . that was all it was. Nothing more, and nothing less. He was just over-thinking things.

"We should move on to the second room," he sighed finally, turning his back to the study. "I would rather not be here all day, so let us get this over with."

The second door merely led to a wash room, which nearly failed to help Ciel's assumptions in the slightest. However, he did note that there were empty spaces between some of the bottles on the surrounding shelves. Either Count Childs was in need of some new shampoo, or he had taken some of his personal necessities with him. It was this clue that made Ciel think that he may have found the beginning of a lead.

The last room was, as expected, the bedchamber. Instantly Ciel could see that his assumption was correct; there was a subtle lack of materials in the room. There were no pictures on the wall, no bedside lantern, no sheets on the bed . . . the room was completely bare.

And perhaps most importantly . . . there was no dust covering the floor or the furniture.

Ciel made his way over to the wardrobe, the three children following closely behind him as usual. He pulled the door open cautiously, half expecting for some dark underworld creature to jump out and attack him. Instead, all that was waiting for him was a single shirt, hanging docilely on a rack. "I suppose he did not care much for this one," he mumbled to himself. "Everything is gone. It is like he never stayed in the room in the first place."

"Are you implying that he never once slept in here?" Charlotte inched slightly closer to him; even she seemed affected by the spooky atmosphere of the empty room.

"Not at all, though it is likely that he never slept in the bed. Demons do not require sleep. However . . . I believe that he did occupy this room frequently. He moved out . . . recently. The furniture is too clean for him to have vacated anytime before yesterday." He closed the wardrobe and turned back to face the three children. "He was ready to leave for good. But now we need to find out whether Lizzy planned on leaving or not."

"I will take you to Mother's room," Charlotte announced with mild relief.

She led Ciel back down to the second floor and into a suite that was much, much smaller than the Count's. Elizabeth's room was very much like Ciel's own at the manor: a bed chamber with a door leading to a washroom. Upon looking around, he couldn't resist a smile; the room was purely Lizzy, complete with bright wallpaper and a large pink wardrobe. This was a room he felt much more comfortable in as compared to where he had just come from. They were all welcome in a room as bright and friendly as this.

But as he had suspected from the start, nothing of hers had been taken or packed. All of her clothes sat in the wardrobe, there was a very old portrait of her and Ciel sitting on the bedside table, and her bed had been carefully made in a way that welcomed someone to lay down on it. It was painfully obvious that she had not been planning on going anywhere for any length of time. To her, the trip yesterday had just been a date.

With a soft sigh, he let the pillow he had lifted a moment before fall back to the bed. He had hoped . . . hoped that once he had left Elizabeth's life for good, she wouldn't be wrapped up in these dangerous affairs any longer. Instead, it seemed that she had become wrapped up in them more than before. Lizzy didn't _belong _in a world of demons. She belonged in a world of splendor, of social importance, of fancy balls and gossiping women. He had wanted to keep her in that world for the duration of her life . . . he wanted it to be his way of protecting her even though he wasn't beside her any longer.

It made him wonder—considering if the circumstances had been different—just what sort of life she would have had if the two of them had married in the end. Sure, there wouldn't have been a Sebastian . . . but Ciel would have been a content human, and happy, and they could have raised a _normal _family . . .

He might not have loved Lizzy in a romantic sense, but surely that fate would have been better than what this one seemed to be turning out to be. This fate was a nightmare . . . even by Ciel's terms it was. He didn't want Lizzy to know about this part of the world. If she found out that he was a demon, he was certain that their relationship would never be the same again. He wanted to keep things in this safe medium. If he wanted to prevent a disaster from occurring . . .

He needed to save her, and soon.

"He planned on taking her somewhere," he finally said. "Obviously it was somewhere he did not want to admit out loud. So now we need to find out where he went."

Charlotte took a seat at the edge of her mother's bed, not seeming to care in the least that it was unsightly to sit in the first place. "How are we supposed to do that? We have no idea where they may have gone. Not even a hint!"

"We will just have to ask around until we get one. Someone always knows something." He smiled grimly. "All beings who commit crimes leave behind tracks, no matter how skilled they are."

"We don't even know if she is still alive, though. It has already been a day. Father may have done something to her by now . . ."

"I can figure that much out." Not that he necessarily _wanted _to, but if it would answer that particular question . . .

"How?" Isaiah demanded incredulously. "You can't possibly find out if she's alive if we don't even know where she is."

"Let's go," Ciel announced firmly, ignoring the statement. "We need to make another visit."

"Where are we going?"

Ciel hesitated as he thought of an appropriate reply. There wasn't much he could say without giving it away, and because he didn't exactly think highly of the place, he saw no reason to name it anything meaningful. If nothing else, he could . . .

Finally, he replied with, "A stinky flower shop."

* * *

"Oh, gross!" Niam complained loudly, clamping both of his hands over his nose to block out the smell. "Why does it stink like this?"

"I have no idea," Ciel answered truthfully. He stared woefully down at his attire; there went another perfectly good outfit . . . to think that he had to dispose of his clothing because of an inhumane _smell_.

"What on earth are we here for?"

He turned around with an apprehensive scowl to face Charlotte. "We need to find out whether Elizabeth is dead or not, am I right? Whether I can get an answer, though . . . that is highly unlikely . . ."

"What do you mean?"

"The person we are going to ask holds a particular sort of dislike for me. The feeling is mutual, of course, but I can hope that he will feel obliged to help us . . ."

He reluctantly stepped inside the shop that used to be the Undertaker's. He felt just a tad guilty for taking the three children along; the stench was horrid enough to make one sick if their stomach couldn't hold out. Even as he walked forward, Niam had his nose buried two inches deep in the waistcoat of Ciel's outfit in an attempt to ward off the odor.

"Grell!" he called out gruffly, anxious to get the entire ordeal over and done with. The quicker he could get out of this disguised garbage dump, the better.

Immediately a thump issued from beyond the back door of the shop, followed by a coarse curse and a sharp squeal. Ciel raised an eyebrow skeptically; whatever events were taking place out there did not sound very appropriate for the present age group.

A moment later the door creaked open, revealing ridiculously bright red. Grell was not in the state Ciel had expected him to be in, however; his hair was mussed, and his jacket was hanging haphazardly from one arm like he had shoved it on hastily. Much to his amusement, the Death God's face was just as crimson as his hair. "Did I interrupt something?" Ciel questioned innocently.

Green eyes—Grell was missing his glasses, a feat that merely added to the demon child's fun—snapped down to glare at him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you did," the reaper grumbled. "What the hell are you doing here without Sebastian?"

"Sebastian is . . . away on business," he lied grudgingly. There was no way he was going to admit to _this _guy that he had lost the demon for good. Grell would be . . . overjoyed, to say the least. "I need your help with something."

"Like I would want to help _you_," the red head snorted.

"Grell . . . this is a life or death matter. You are the only one I _can _come to, as far as I know." Ciel gripped Niam's shoulder to keep himself sane; he _hated _doing business with this incomprehensible man. "I believe you can help me with this matter."

"Life or death, huh?" Grell brought a hand back to straighten his hair back into place and then flopped down into a chair, languidly crossing his legs and giving a signature smirk. "If this is about the record books I can't show you. We have strict confidential rules—"

"This is about someone that may or may not be dead. We need to know if someone has been killed."

"Can't do that either."

"But you—"

"If you have a problem with our policies, take it up with Will." Grell flashed him a Cheshire grin and let his eyes dart nervously towards the back door.

Even as Ciel glanced over at the door it opened, revealing the Shinigami that Sebastian hated the most. William T. Spears solemnly pushed his glasses further up his nose before examining Ciel thoroughly. The Earl found himself shifting under that cold gaze; he had always felt uncomfortable near this particular Death God.

"Mr. Sutcliffe is right," was the eventual answer, and Ciel muttered sharply under his breath at the blatant rejection to help. "Information such as that is strictly confidential unless under dire circumstances."

He seized his chance. "The record in question belongs to the mother of these three children," he told Will. "I personally believe it is a dire situation."

"Explain."

Charlotte stepped forward, sparing a single glance for Ciel to let him know that she wanted to take over telling the story. "Excuse me, Mr. . . ."

"Spears. William T. Spears."

"Mr. Spears. My father is a demon, while my mother is just a human. My brothers and I were taken to Earl Phantomhive's townhouse yesterday whilst our parents supposedly embarked upon a . . . romantic excursion. There were due to be back some time last night, but they have not returned. Furthermore, my father's room was cleaned out, as though he were planning on traveling. My mother took nothing with her. We have reason to believe, then, that our father has kidnapped our mother for harmful purposes. We would merely like to know if she is alive or not before we continue to search."

Will nodded to show that he understood, but he had yet to remove his eyes from Ciel . . . something the Earl found extremely awkward. "What is your relation with all of this, Phantomhive?"

"The mother is my cousin and former fiancé. Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Because, Mr. Phantomhive, you are a demon, and your Contract has ended. What exactly were the terms of your deal?"

"If you think I _wanted _to become a demon, Mr. Spears, then you are sorely mistaken." He paused when Niam's insistent tugging on his sleeve became too much to ignore any longer. He lifted the toddler into his arms—where a small nose was then nuzzled into his collar to ward off the smell—before continuing. "This child forcibly broke my Contract with Sebastian. As for my being a demon . . . that was against my own will. However, that is beside the point. We are here to know if Elizabeth Childs is dead or not."

Slowly, Will removed a book from the recesses of his suit jacket. "It is against my ethics to help the likes of a demon, but if it is for the sake of these three children then I suppose I can make an exception."

"W-Will!" Grell protested immediately. "Don't help that brat! He—"

"Quiet, Sutcliffe." The book fell open in the Death God's hand. William flipped through it slowly, to such an extent that had Ciel tensing in apprehension. If Lizzy was dead, it wouldn't be fair. She was a mother; with children to take care of, she couldn't even _afford_ to be dead. And Ciel . . . he needed to know that she had lived a life full of satisfaction. He needed to know for _himself_.

The book shut with a snap, and Ciel's head snapped up to stare beseechingly at Will. "Did you find anything?"

"Elizabeth Childs is not dead."

He breathed a sigh of relief. They must have just been overreacting to think—

"You have three months."

"Three months for what?" Isaiah asked nervously, even as Charlotte visibly flinched.

Will frowned while he placed the book back in its resting place over his heart. "Three months to find and rescue her. In three months, if you fail to find her, her husband will murder her."

"I-Is there a place listed too?" Charlotte seemed clearly affected by that last statement; she had grabbed a hold of Isaiah's arm sometime while the Shinigami had been talking, and Ciel could hear the slight tremors in her voice. These children should not have to go through the pain of losing a loved one, not like he had . . .

"We only know the location of the site when we are sent to view the cinematic record," Will answered calmly. "You will have to figure that out on your own."

"Thank you for your time," Ciel managed to say.

To that, Will raised his eyebrows, an expression of surprise if there ever was one. "An esteemed Earl, thanking one of us? I am honored."

"You can stop with the sarcastic loathing," Ciel snorted. He knew the Death God would never be honored by _his _thanks. "I quite honestly do not care anymore. Now, if you will excuse us—ah. Mr. Sutcliffe. I regret to inform you that you forgot to fasten your trousers."

As he turned around, he heard an outraged—and embarrassed—squeak . . . and he had to admit it to himself. That had felt pretty damn satisfying. As they left the shop, he couldn't resist a sardonic smirk to reward himself for his victory.

"My goodness, it smelled horrid in there!" Charlotte exclaimed the moment the door to the flower shop clicked shut behind them. "I fail to see how anything like that is possible. But besides that . . . who were those men? Or should I say . . . _what _were they?"

They were Death Gods, or reapers, if you will." Ciel maneuvered his way back into the carriage without letting go of Niam, who—unsurprisingly—had managed to fall asleep despite the severity of the conversation they had just been having. "They are creatures who collect the souls of the people who died without a clear path of an afterlife. They decide whether a soul should go to heaven or hell. That is why I cam to them. However, Grell is not too fond of me; I do not see why I thought he could have helped. We are lucky Mr. Spears was there as well."

"Even so, we received the answer we were looking for. I am glad you knew where to go."

Isaiah clambered into the carriage last, and he shut the little door firmly behind him before taking a seat. "Now what?" he asked. "We still don't know where Father might have taken Mother, so we can't just go save her right now. Is there anything else we can do to get any hints? I . . . don't want to go back home worrying about this. I want to do something _now_. Mother . . . she might be suffering at this very moment."

Ciel leaned back against the wall of the carriage, turning his head to the side to hide the frown that threatened to overtake his face. "I cannot think of anything else to do for the time being . . . wait. We could question all of your parents' acquaintances. They may have stopped by a nearby townhouse before continuing on their way."

But Charlotte was already shaking her head. "Mother always liked being social, but Father would never allow it. I doubt there is anyone you could ask."

"Then what about relati—_oh_." Ciel froze as one person in particular emerged in the forefront of his mind. He _really _didn't want to go that far, but if anyone knew the inside and outside of Elizabeth's personal life, it was this person. So, with an obvious grimace, he asked . . .

"How is Aunt Francis doing?"

* * *

The carriage ride was a long one, the equivalent of a trip from London to Ciel's manor. It was just as well it was; Ciel hadn't the slightest urge to return to an empty townhouse. Being with Elizabeth's children distracted him, to an extent, from his missing partner. Even now it hurt; every time he turned his head, he expected Sebastian to be there with a signature smirk. When he wasn't, Ciel felt his soul—or what was left of it—break even more. He couldn't do this. He wasn't meant to be by himself from the first moment he formed the Contract.

They were halfway to their destination when he felt the first twinge of pain strike his right eye. It was nothing overly drastic—just a sort of stinging sensation—but he winced and moved his hand up to his eye nevertheless. It was to this movement that Charlotte calmly said, "Your eye is beginning to pain you, I see."

He nodded reluctantly, sliding one finger beneath the eye patch to touch his swollen eyelid.

"It will hurt pretty badly for the next day or so while it regenerates. If you were in tune with your powers, you could possibly speed up the process just a bit, but . . ."

Ciel glanced over to her side of the carriage, where Isaiah lay curled into a ball on the seat, just as deeply asleep as Niam. "May I ask you a question?" he breathed quietly.

"There is no reason for you not to. I am assuming it is about our family life? You look slightly wistful."

"It has something to do with that, yes. I wanted to know if . . . if Lizzy is a good mother. She always seemed to be a bit too energetic for the job, but . . ."

"Mother has always been a bit on the hyper side, as I am sure you well know. But at the same time . . . she always knows how to calm herself down when we are in need of her." Charlotte smiled gently; it relieved Ciel to know that Lizzy's children thought fondly of her despite their difference in species. "I guess that is the difference between Mother and Father, though. He is always concerned with manners and proper etiquette . . . she could care less. She is a friend to us on top of a parent. Mother is . . . fun, I should say. I would like to tell you that she is the perfect parent, but she has her flaws. Still . . . she is someone I admire greatly, even if she is a human. It simply does not matter to me."

"Do you think she enjoys doing it?"

"Earl, the smile she gives when she begins to speak with us every morning is enough to let anyone know that she enjoys her role in life. Why do you ask?"

Ciel slowly let his hand fall back into his lap; it was doing nothing to ease his discomfort. "I guess I needed to know that she was going to be alright without me. I put her through too many trials when she was still . . . mine. I did not want her to live in the world that I do."

"Despite what we are, and what Father is, I believe that she is living a life she wanted. Now we just have to make sure that it remains that way, even though she will probably never be with Father again." Charlotte's eyes focused back on Ciel's eye patch. "I answered your question; now you should answer mine. What is your relationship with your butler?"

Immediately, he felt his face flush bright red with embarrassment. Something like that . . . had even these children noticed what had been going on between him and his butler? "W-What do you mean?" he asked nonchalantly, hoping that he was mistaken.

"Oh, it is not mature to play ignorant when I obviously know what I am talking about. You are far too close to that man for it to be normal. You are more at ease when he is near you . . . more confident of your ability to stay calm. Right now you are nervous and jumpy, whereas if Sebastian were here, you would have taken the question I just asked you in stride. It is not just that you trust him. There is something there that is out of the ordinary."

So she _had _noticed, then. Awkwardly he gripped at the cushioned seat beneath him, unsure of what to say. "Sebastian liked—well, I suppose he did, I could never tell if he was teasing me or not—me in a romantic sense. He yelled a confession to me just last week . . . even though it was so out of character for him to do so. He wanted me to know what he felt. I know we are demons, but . . . it is perverse, is it not? For one man to like another, and for one of them to be in the body of a child."

"Demon aesthetics," Charlotte responded calmly, "do not indicate anything against relationships of the same sex. They find it completely normal considering our characteristics. However, Earl . . . you did not say anything about your side of the relationship."

"I . . . I am not entirely sure as of yet. I think . . . I may have been starting to think like Sebastian. I know that when he kissed me last week, I was not averse to it, even if it was a bit too forward of him at the time. I always saw him as a father figure. Or . . . I thought I had. Now I think . . . I may have seen him as something more." He bit his lip nervously; to say it out loud felt so _exposing._

"Is that why you did not want the Contract broken yet? Because you were not sure if he was toying with you or not?"

"No, not at all. I already believe he was not joking, however. He was merely . . . with me for too long. No, I wanted the Contract to stay because I am . . . not capable of taking care of myself. I was raised, even after Sebastian came, to let others take care of all my needs. After I became a demon, Sebastian continued to do just that, and now I . . ." He shook his head. "Another demon could come and do anything they wanted to me, and I would not be able to stop them. I am powerless in this world. Sebastian was there to be my guidance and my protection. Without him, I . . ."

"You are clueless. I cannot blame you, and you are still only a fledgling in the eyes of the demon world. You still need help getting used to your body. If that demon does not come back for you, then it is safe to say that he never loved you in the first place."

"Oh yes, that makes me feel better," he snorted wryly, and then he winced as another jolt of pain shot through his eye. "How bad is this going to hurt?" he groaned ruefully.

"The worst of it will probably be tonight, when most of the major healing takes place. It is a good thing demons do not need to sleep, is it not?"

"But I like sleeping," he sighed in frustration.

"So we have noticed." Charlotte frowned then, her eyes raking over Ciel's form disapprovingly. "You might want to straighten yourself up, Earl. Grandmother is very . . . well, I am certain that you know how she is about appearances."

Ciel grimaced at the thought. Yes, he knew . . . and even now he was frightened of that woman's scrutinizing glare. The horrors he had gone through, trying to impress her . . .

Unconsciously he raised his hand once more, this time to carefully smooth his hair back from his face.

* * *

Standing in front of Elizabeth's old home brought back a sense of overwhelming nostalgia. He never had come very often—surely not at all after obtaining Sebastian—but when he did, he remembered that he had been treated with more respect than a small child deserved. The Middlefords were always more concerned with treating their guests than in tending to themselves.

Still . . . Ciel could never remember feeling more nervous about standing in front of the mansion. The Marchioness would never believe his lie about being a "ghost", especially without his butler there to smooth it over. If she managed to figure things out . . . well, it was Aunt Francis. Twenty years older or not, that madwoman would be hard to kill. Also . . . he didn't even know how he was going to get any information out of her. He wasn't Lizzy's betrothed any longer. It was wrong to force himself into her business, whether it was a serious matter or not.

"Grandmother doesn't own a butler anymore, so we have to knock," Isaiah groggily announced, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the remnants of exhaustion. Niam was still asleep, his head lolling around slightly on Ciel's shoulder as he dreamed. Sebastian would have called the scene adorable for sure . . .

They didn't have to knock in the end. As they were making their way up the steps, the door flew open, startling Ciel to the point where he nearly dropped the resting toddler in his arms. He didn't have to look to know who it was, and that was probably the worst part of it all.

"Ciel Phantomhive, I am surprised you have the gall to show up at my doorstep after disappearing for twenty years. With my grandchildren in tow, no less!"

Yes, just as he had thought, Francis Middleford was no less imposing than before despite the passage of time . . . and Ciel could bet that she had grown a reputation as a grouchy old lady at this stage of her life. No way in hell had he missed this woman, relation or not. "I apologize, Aunt Francis," he breathed regretfully, giving her an awkward smile.

"I expect a very well thought-out explanation for this incident, do you understand? Now. Get in here so that child can sleep somewhere more comfortably. And—what on earth is that ghastly smell?"

"We came from a flower shop," Isaiah giggled innocently. "Except the flowers didn't smell like flowers. They smelled like dead people."

"Deceased ones, dear child, not dead ones. Do not speak like a commoner."

"Sorry, Grandmother."

Ciel allowed his eye to flicker over the woman as he entered the Middleford mansion. If it was even possible for her to seem more dignified than before, then she was. Even with the wrinkles on her face and the gray in her hair, she kept her head held high, tackling the world with more than a little bit of common sense. Once he thought about it, he decided that there was some of the Marchioness's personality residing within Charlotte's demeanor.

And he couldn't decide if that was good thing or not.

They were ushered into the parlor, where Niam was then plucked from his arms with little regard to his own preferences. He found himself wanting to laugh at the show of affection from his aunt as she situated the toddler into her own arms. And when she caught him watching, all she did was smile—something he rarely, if ever, saw from the woman.

"From the moment my daughter first showed him to me," she explained, "I was reminded of you and your father. You were both such vivacious children. When my dearest brother died, I thought that at least you would carry on that happiness in your heart. But when you came back, there was nothing of that joy left within you. Niam seems to have inherited that trait. Because of it, I admit to having a soft spot for this one." She narrowed her eyes and promptly changed the subject. "You never told a soul where you were at that horrible time, did you? Everyone could only assume. You could have at least eased our curiosity."

Ironically enough, he didn't feel like the information had to be hidden anymore. It had taken place so far in the past, and Sebastian had long since erased the fear of the incident from his mind because of his gentle administrations after a nightmare. He owed them an explanation, at the very least . . .

Most of one, in any case. There was one vital detail that he could never afford to let slip past his lips.

"Aunt Francis," he said slowly," I was kidnapped by a cult." He glanced up at her, feeling much more confident than he had in the past few hours. "On the night our manor burned down, they took me."

The Marchioness froze, horror marring her aging face. "A cult?" she ground out through clenched teeth. "How in the world did you escape?"

"Sebastian saved me." That was the most he could say on that matter, for fear of anything more important leaking from his mouth. "I was beaten and starved, and they were going to kill me when he came. I realize my reactions to everything were different when I returned, but . . . surely you can understand why that was. And . . . I said nothing, because . . . it was a shame to the Phantomhive family. If London knew that the son of Vincent Phantomhive had been brought to such low standards . . ." It wasn't entirely the truth; he could have cared less about his family's reputation. In reality, he never knew why he did not say anything. It felt better to have an excuse, however.

"And your eye . . . that was damaged during the event?"

Ciel felt himself automatically tense at the question. His eye was to remain hidden at all costs, that much he knew, but . . . there wasn't any need to, not anymore. There was no point in hiding a secret that no longer existed. "Yes," he sighed.

"Prove it."

He yanked his head up from its lowered position, surprised by the firmness in his aunt's voice. She didn't really think he would . . . "What?" he breathed.

"Prove to me that you are telling the truth, that you are not making up a story to hide the true explanation of your past. Show me what has happened to your eye."

Automatically his hand flew up to cover the eye patch protectively, as though that would ward off the offending questions. Telling her about what had happened was one thing, but to _show _her . . . that was asking for far too much from him. "Aunt Francis, I do not think I can. I never even allowed Elizabeth to see it. I . . . it is something far too embarrassing. We did not come to talk about me anyway—"

"Tell me the truth or I will not let you stay here long enough to ask me anything, whether it is important or not."

Regretfully, Aunt Francis had always been too stubborn for Ciel to counteract her demands.

He lowered his head again as he reluctantly reach back. Sebastian would have found a way around this problem, and _he _probably could, if he really wanted to try . . . but there was no point in trying anymore, was there? There was no point to anything anymore . . .

Hell, even _he _thought he sounded miserable.

The piece of fabric fell into his lap as soon as the tie was loosened enough. His eye felt puffy and it was stinging consistently now. He was certain it looked bad enough to convince the Marchioness, but that didn't banish the unease rushing through his body. He felt exposed and vulnerable without the protection of his eye patch. "Please do not stare for too long," he said quietly, and then raised his head to stare at the woman.

Francis, to her credit, merely glanced at the injury once before waving her hand dismissively. "It certainly does mar that face of yours. I will not bring the topic up again; I can see that it brings you a great deal of grief. Now, to a more pressing matter . . . why do you still look as you did twenty years ago? It has been two decades since you last showed your face; you should have aged by now." She frowned at him. "I do not understand why you faked your death. There is even an empty grave buried in the Phantomhive plot, and no one knows that there is no body in there—"

"Aunt," he said hurriedly. He could not allow for her to dig into that part of his past. She would notice that something was wrong far too quickly. He had to keep her mind occupied with something else . . . "We are here about Elizabeth."

He had her attention within the time limit of half a second. "What about my daughter?" she hissed, eyes narrowing in anger. "If it is about that _thing _she married . . ."

"To be perfectly truthful, it is." As he spoke, Ciel swiftly tied the string of his eye patch back together. The second the knot was made he felt more like himself once again. Hidden from the eyes of the public, from people who would mock him for his deformity. "Elizabeth and Mr. Childs came by my townhouse yesterday and asked me to watch these three while they went on a romantic outing, to put it in simple terms. They have not returned since then. Would you happen to have any idea where they might have gone?"

The cold fire in the woman's eyes softened just slightly, but at the same time, Ciel noticed her jaw tighten. He sensed something in her that he had never felt before, and it surprised him. She was . . .

Afraid.

"The first time I saw that man, I knew he was no good," she murmured. "I could not tell her not to marry him; she had finally looked happy again after you . . . left. But I knew he was not in love with my daughter. I could see it plainly." She turned her head, staring directly at Ciel. "I do not know where they may have gone. I lost contact with my daughter three years ago. Edward forbid her from coming to visit me. The last time I saw the children, Niam was only one year old."

"He told Elizabeth she was forbidden from seeing you again? You should have protested. A woman is entitled to know that their children are safe, even after they leave the household. Aunt Francis, are you certain you have no idea?"

"None that I can think of. However, if I remember anything at all I will let you know immediately."

"We're at a dead end, then," Isaiah whispered quietly. "What are we going to do now?"

Ciel pursed his lips thoughtfully. He knew what he had to do, and yet . . . yet he didn't like it in the least. But they had no other choice . . .

They would have to stop looking for her.

"Thank you for your help, Aunt Francis," he said decisively, rising from the chair. "I will call again once we find out what has happened to Lizzy. I can only hope we are misunderstanding the situation and that it is nothing serious."

"Ah, Ciel . . . one last question."

He froze, hoping that she wasn't going to bring up the topic he had avoided talking about. There was no way around answering it if she probed. She wouldn't believe any lie he gave. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable question . . .

"Whatever happened to that butler of yours? I half expected to see him walk in behind you, but of course, he probably never knew about you either . . ."

He flinched, feeling his heart grow even colder at the blatant reminder that Sebastian was not with him anymore. "He is gone, Aunt," he whispered woefully. It _hurt _to say it out loud. "I suspect he will not be returning."

And then he retrieved Niam, thanked the Marchioness once more for her time and aid, and left before she could see the truly despairing look that had crawled back over his face.

"You never answered Isaiah's question," Charlotte told him once they were outside again, away from the probing questions. "What are we going to do now?"

Ciel took a deep, steadying breath to bring himself back to normal. Now was _not _a time to fall into a pit of morbid depression. Not when there were three children worrying about a much more pressing matter. He pushed Sebastian to the back of his mind and returned his focus to the current conversation. "There is nothing more that we can do for the moment. We have three months to find her, and that gives us some time. The best thing we can do for the time being is to wait for the information regarding her whereabouts to come to us. Surely someone is going to find a clue. And if they do not . . . we will have to search blindly until we come up with something."

"As much as I want to disagree with that decision, your reasoning is sound, Earl."

"We should return to London—"

"No." Charlotte leveled her gaze at him, examining him thoroughly before focusing her attention on his covered eye. "It is too late to go back, and your pain will only get worse as the day wanes to a close. Not only that . . . no offense, Earl, but in your position you are unable to take care of yourself, much less the three of us as well. I suggest we retreat to the Phantomhive manor until we receive further information."

"If that is what you want," he replied submissively and then climbed into the carriage. Truthfully, it sounded better than going back to that lonely townhouse. The occupants of his manor would keep him distracted—for the most part—from Sebastian's absence. Right now, he thought, they would be the best thing for him until he could regain some footing.

The pain in his eye came back with a vengeance when they were only a few minutes from their destination. The jerk he gave not only made Isaiah and Charlotte jump but also woke the napping toddler in his arms. He hardly had time to give Niam an apology before he was hissing and holding both hands over the injury. He was thankful that his eye was able to regenerate on its own, but . . . _hell_, it was a painful process.

"I'm sorry!" Niam whimpered, obviously not too happy about being the one who had caused the pain.

"It is perfectly alright," Ciel brushed off weakly, even though in truth it wasn't at all. He just didn't want Niam to feel guilty. It wasn't _really _the little boy's fault anyway. _He _was the one who had wanted the Contract gone in the first place.

"As Finnian or Bard for some ice when we arrive," Charlotte advised. "It will temper the pain a bit."

"Mm," was the only coherent reply she received.

He didn't have to ask in the end. The moment Finny saw him being helped down from the carriage, hands still futilely gripping the area around his eye, he had taken off around the side of the manor, only to return a moment later with a bag filled with ice. "What happened to the Young Master?" the gardener asked nervously.

Ciel didn't even try to block the soft moan of relief when his hot hands were replaced by the ice-cold bag. It burned away the pain entirely for the time being, leaving his mind clearer than before and able to assess his surroundings. He mumbled a quick thank you to Finny and then took over holding the ice, leaving the talking to Charlotte while he calmed himself down.

"His eye has been aggravated all day," the eldest child explained vaguely. "He will not show us, but . . ."

"Why hasn't Mr. Sebastian looked at it? He's always the one who—"

"Sebastian is not here," Ciel ground out. Gingerly he loosed the eye patch once again, using the poultice to hide the injury instead. It felt better on his bare skin, a fact he accepted thankfully.

"Then where is he?"

"He is—"

"Away on business matters," Charlotte swiftly cut in. "The Earl should stay here until Sebastian's return. I am sure you know how he is on his own; he needs the company."

"I see," Finny responded happily. "I hope he'll be back soon. Young Master, you should come inside. Maybe if you sit down it will help some."

He supposed it was a lucky thing Finny was so gullible, although he didn't understand why they were hiding the truth from the servants. He decided not to correct Charlotte, however; all he really wanted to do at that moment was crawl into his bed and forget about everything that had happened. A few hours of respite from the world, at the very least . . .

"the Young Master is here!" Finny called out in the entryway. The loud tone of the gardener's voice had Ciel flinching again; it echoed painfully in his head and worsened the pain in his eye. "Please do not yell," he hissed faintly.

"Oops. Sorry . . . I'll just go fetch them instead . . ."

"No, it is fine. We will be here for awhile; they will know of our presence eventually."

"Why are Lady Elizabeth's children with you?"

He grimaced; he would have to explain that, of course. "Fine, you can gather everyone. There is something we need to discuss, in any case."

"Should I direct them to the parlor?"

"No. The lounge. The furniture there is far more comfortable, and I have not had a good rest since this morning."

In truth, he was just tired of being so formal. In the lounge he felt more relaxed, and more apt to saying things in an understanding fashion. Plus . . .

Well, he wanted to sit in his favorite armchair.

"Mother said the original Phantomhive home was burned down," Isaiah commented idly while they climbed the stairs.

"It did." Ciel adjusted the poultice over his eye; it was beginning to sting even with the ice there to cool it down. "Sebastian rebuilt it, in exactly the same manner as it was before the fire. This is a perfect replica."

"Eh? He could do that?"

"I ordered him to, through the Contract. He had no choice. Although . . . I suspect he would have done it regardless. We were not so close in the beginning as we were later on, but . . . despite his heritage, he was always a kind servant."

"Well, anyway, you can't tell it's not the real one. Mother showed me a really old picture of it."

"Do you plan on following in your butler's footsteps?" Charlotte demanded suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"He was a solitary demon. Most demons do not bother with Contracts; they merely feast on the unfortunate humans that happen across their path. Your demon, quite obviously, indulged in making the Contracts . . . playing with his food, you could say. Will you form Contracts to obtain your meals?"

"I never . . . thought about it." His foot faltered on the last step as he hesitated. With practice, perhaps he could do something of the sort, but . . . he didn't know if he could do it. He didn't understand how _Sebastian _could do it. to form attachments with someone . . . to get to know them . . . and then to _kill _them . . .

For once, he felt almost lucky for not having been subjected to that ending.

The first of the manor's residents came in just as he was settling into his large armchair. Bard's eyes flickered across the room before settling on Ciel. He gave one sharp, disapproving frown before leaning back against the wall and lighting a cigarette. However, Ciel hardly had time to wonder what the look was for before the door opened again to reveal Soma.

The greeting from him was a drastic change from the last one."

"Oh, Ciel, what happened?" the Indian asked in concern. "Ah, you look like you need a hug—"

"No! No, Soma, please, I am fine. It merely hurts." Ciel hastily waved him off, certainly _not _in a mood for a hug from _him_.

"So, Earl," Lau called smoothly from behind the purple-haired man. "What exactly are we here for? Surely it can't be _too _important."

"Please wait for everyone to arrive," he grumbled. The pain was getting worse, he noted, and so was his mood. At that particular moment, he really did not want to worry about things such as this.

He certainly did not want to explain this story yet again.

* * *

Ciel moaned quietly, rolling onto his side and resisting the urge to grab at his throbbing eye. There was something _wrong _with this: his one chance to forget about what he had lost, and this stupid pain was keeping him from drifting off into that land of _nothing _for a few hours. He could only lie awake, nestled under unfamiliar covers and cuddling an especially uncomfortable pillow.

And wish, for the millionth time that day, that Sebastian was still with him.

Even though the years had passed by quicker than he could blink, there was still one thing Sebastian had never stopped doing . . . and that was tucking his master into bed every night. When night fell and Ciel had properly bathed, gotten dressed, and began to come to bed, the butler was there to hold the covers back while he climbed under them. Sebastian would tuck the blankets around him, glance down with his burgundy eyes, and say quietly, "Rest well, My Lord." Ciel had come to expect it, and now that it wasn't there, he felt vulnerable under the haphazard covers.

Perhaps, now that he thought about it, he had been taking it for granted. Despite looking for a way to break the Contract, his thoughts had never considered this. Right now, more than anything, he wanted to hear that simple good night. It was foolish, selfish even, but the thought of never hearing those words coming from Sebastian's mouth again broke what semblance of a heart he had even more.

It made him feel empty. Broken. Abandoned.

Even if he was surrounded by friends, people that cared about him and loved him, it was still the same.

Without Sebastian, he was utterly and irrevocably _alone_.

A soft knock on the door broke through his spiraling thoughts. He didn't answer, instead just shifting slightly under the sheets; whoever it was would come in regardless of whether he gave them permission. Belatedly he realized that his eye was completely visible, but it didn't necessarily matter. It wasn't like anyone would see anything they weren't supposed to.

The door opened near-silently to reveal Finny. Ciel wasn't particularly surprised; the gardener had been staring at him solemnly all night. He managed a weak smile in greeting, but that was it. He couldn't bring himself to say a word . . . and he almost preferred it that way.

Finny only sent a passing glance to the uncovered eye before focusing his attention on the other one. "Does it still hurt?"

"Yes," he sighed hoarsely, hating the fact that his weakness was so obvious.

"Young Master," he began, and Ciel could swear he had never seen the former servant look so solemn before, "Mr. Sebastian isn't away on a business trip, is he?"

He winced, not having expected the lie to be caught. "No, he is not."

There came a sigh, and then the bed dipped down as the blonde took a seat on top of the covers. Both of them disregarded the fact that a lowly servant should not be allowed to be so comfortable around their master. What they were discussing was far more important than proper manners. "I could tell," Finny explained. "You looked rather unhappy, and you and Mr. Sebastian . . . has he done something to you?"

"No, Finny," Ciel denied fervently. No, Sebastian had done _nothing _to him. "It is me who has done something to him. It was merely time for him to move on."

"Young Master, I was under the impression that the two of you _belonged _together. The two of you had always been close, as I recall, even from the moment I met you." The gardener cocked his head to the side curiously. "Did he tell you he was going to leave?"

"No," he mumbled. No, he hadn't said goodbye, and Ciel didn't blame him one bit. Why _should _he? He owed no sense of courtesy to one who had tied him in place for decades.

Finny, however, had other ideas. "I don't think he's gone, Young Master. Mr. Sebastian is kind above all else, and he wouldn't forget about you. Forgive me for being brash, but . . . he loved you very much, my Lord. All of us could see that."

But Ciel merely frowned and shook his head as much as he could without harming himself further. "You are not aware of his true self," he sighed.

"There's not much I can say to sway your opinion, is there?" Finny stood and smiled gently. "After all, I'm merely a servant. But you'll see, Young Master. Sebastian will be back."

"Thank you, Finny," he whispered regardless. "For trying."

"Um . . . Young Master, I know you're not normal." The words were spoken quietly, like the gardener was afraid of saying them.

Ciel froze.

He couldn't have figured it out, could he? He had gone to extra lengths to hide his true form, and he had been certain of his success in that endeavor. But . . . if one thought about it, there was something _wrong _with him. Other people felt it, that aura that was surrounding his kind. Humans knew there was something dangerous near them, something unsettling. And if Finny—Finny, the servant with a big heart and a little brain—had caught on, then it was practically impossible to hide it from anyone else.

But the servant only said, "I've known from the moment I was hired to work for you. There was something more to the story than any of us knew. And when you left, there was even more that was different. It feels like I should be scared of you, but all I can think when I see you and Mr. Sebastian is that you're my friends, and you won't hurt me no matter what you are. I'm not afraid at all. But . . . if Mr. Sebastian isn't with you, I think I might be afraid _for _you. The Young Master needs someone that knows every secret of his, and someone that can always take care of him. That's why I think Mr. Sebastian is definitely going to come back for you."

Ciel finally turned his gaze to Finny and offered a tired smile. "You really thought about this."

"I was concerned for the Young Master . . . no, my old friend." The smile was returned. "Goodnight, my Lord."

The door clicked shut once more.

Ciel sucked in a soft breath, one of his hands tightly clutching the bed sheets beneath him. Finny didn't _understand. _He didn't know that there were others out there just like him and Sebastian. They weren't meant for each other; in fact, that was practically an inconceivable idea. They had merely come together for one sole purpose: they had no other choice but to do so.

And yet, that faint hope remained . . . that little voice in his head telling him that perhaps Sebastian _would _come back like he had promised. The butler said he never told lies, and Ciel had never seen him go back on that statement. Sebastian had _promised_. He didn't want to believe it—refused to believe it—but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about the possibilities.

It was tiring to think about it, though, and he thought that if . . . if he could just forget about the agony coursing through his eye for just a moment, he could fall asleep and forget about everything for a few hours. If it was any sort of consolation, demons did not dream. There would be no pain in his sleep, no fear . . . and certainly no Sebastian. Right now, he knew that was what he needed.

A chance to forget about everything for awhile.

He sighed quietly to himself and squeezed his normal eye shut, forcing himself to forget the pain. Against his mind's will, he found himself relaxing, relinquishing his hold on his consciousness to succumb to the welcome black. And by the time Niam crept into his room to climb under the covers next to him, he was aware of nothing.

* * *

**Oh my God it's so much longer than normal. *dies* This has actually been written out for awhile, but when I went to type it up, I started changing everything around, and it took much longer to finish than I originally thought. NEVER AGAIN. This method takes way too long. ;A; On the bright side. You got a huge sucker this time around, didn't you? I hope you're pleased with the chapter; I know it jumps around a bit, but we needed to get all that out in one go. **

**However. It's practically impossible to write these chapters with Sebastian. Ciel's not the only one that misses him. TT^TT. **

**Enjoy the chapter, guys, and hopefully the next one will be out a lot quicker. Besides . . . there's something I think you're going to like a lot in the next one . . . .**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Shadow**


	8. Chapter Seven: Together

**Chapter Seven: Together**

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is in no way mine; it belongs to Toboso Yana.**

**Chapter Warning: EXPLICIT MATERIAL. If you aren't comfortable reading smut, turn away now. Otherwise, prepare to have a lime fest. ENJOY GAIZ! ALSO. This isn't meant to be romantic. It is my firm belief that if Sebastian and Ciel did have a relationship, they wouldn't be all gushy and "Ah, my love!" about it. Just remember that.**

* * *

The Phantomhive manor was a prison.

Extravagantly built, the material exactly the same as it had been before the original was brutally burned away, the carpets plush and worth more than a commoner's entire life's earnings, the portraits done with time and care . . . Yes, it was all exquisite, majestic. It would always be, even when it had grown old and began to rot, the wood crumbling under too much weight and the foundation crumbling to bits. That was the way wealthy homes were, though. You just couldn't take away their beauty in the end.

But to Ciel, seeing the same picturesque walls every day made him sick. He felt stuck in a world he didn't want to be in . . . but at the same time, he couldn't help but to stay. There was a whole other world outside of his home, one that dared to destroy him if he stepped away from the sanctuary. He knew that as a rare form of demon, others would be swooping in at their first opportunity to take him out or, worse, claim him as theirs. No, the only place he could be was the manor, and he hated it in his very core.

Of course, it brought complications. It had been a month since he had stepped outside, too blinded by his own fear of his own kind to take the chance. And he was _hungry_. It gnawed at his senses, forcing his eyes to flicker between cerulean blue and pinkish red at regular intervals. He hid in his room when he couldn't hide it anymore, only allowing the three children that had arrived with him to come in. The servants were concerned, but that was to be expected. He hadn't eaten human food, and it was that which they dwelled on, thinking that he was sick. He _was _sick. He needed to eat, before instinct took over his brain and he killed one of them just so that he could sustain his own life. Yet he refused to leave.

Sebastian had not returned.

A small part of his heart, tucked away in the recesses behind misery, kept up the hope that the butler would still return to him, ready with an apology for his absence and an open invitation to punishment for his delay. Yet no one had showed up at their doorstep claiming to be a Michaelis, and that small bit of hope was crushed little by little. He thought he'd be _over _it . . . that he'd forget about Sebastian, somehow, and continue on with his life like there wasn't a vital part of him missing. Instead he couldn't seem to get past the fact that he was gone.

The morning his eye had opened on its own again, completely healed, he couldn't stop staring. He was used to gazing into mismatched eyes, one perfectly blue and the other a vibrant purple. When he saw for the first time two identical orbs staring back at him, it was like a knife had been plunged into his stomach. There was no evidence whatsoever of his Contract with Sebastian, no sign that it had even existed in the first place. It was like Sebastian was just a figment of his imagination, something he had conjured up to escape the tragedy of reality. He had stared, and stared, and then he had adjusted his eye patch over his right eye and never looked again. If the Contract had never existed, he reasoned, then neither did the eye. In his twisted form of thinking, it made perfect sense.

"Young Master!"

There it was again. Every morning, at the same time . . . one of the three servants would come to bang on his locked bedroom door in a vain attempt to get him to come out. This morning it was Meirin, her scratchy voice echoing in through the door and reverberating through his ears painfully. He pulled a face no one could see, pulling the covers of his bed further up his body. He wasn't going to answer . . . he didn't most of the time, anyway.

A frustrated sigh echoed in from the other side of the door. Meirin was, at the very least, more patient than the others; Ciel had been certain that Bard was going to break down his door at one point the week before. As it was, he heard a dull thump that he assumed could be the maid's head banging against the wood of the door. "I don't care if you're a ghost or not, Young Master, you need to eat. At the very least come out!"

He swallowed back an immature answer and curled his knees closer to his chest. The servants may have thought he was being stubborn, but it didn't affect his way of thinking in the slightest. He wasn't presentable in this state, and though pride was hardly an issue anymore, his distraught face would not be what they wanted to see. He didn't want any of them to know just how much Sebastian's departure had truly affected him.

Muffled voices echoed into the room, alerting him to someone else's presence. He perked up slightly to eavesdrop; it was different from the norm. While it should have worried him—two people meant more of a threat to come out—he wasn't concerned. No one would dare come into his room without his permission, even after so many years had passed.

"Still won't answer?" Bard asked gruffly. Through the heavy door, there was less of an edge to the cook's tone; he sounded almost nice.

"Sometimes I don't even believe he's in there," Meirin replied dejectedly, "but then I hear him moving. What are we supposed to do?"

"You know what's goin' on as much as the rest of us. The reason he's in there. Sebastian ain't away on business. He should've been back by now."

"I thought he was just held up for awhile. But Mr. Sebastian would never leave the Young Master by himself for this long. It's unheard of."

"You don't think 'e ditched 'im, do you?"

"I don't think Sebastian could ever be that cruel." There was a soft pause following that statement before Meirin continued her pleads to Ciel. "Young Master, you can't stay in there forever!"

"Can too," he mumbled to himself. If Sebastian had lasted for over twenty years without devouring a soul, then so could he. It might hurt at the moment, to be so painfully hungry, but it wasn't like he couldn't wait it out. Someday he would be able to hunt again, but for now . . .

Now if he stepped out of the room he was sure they would notice the extent of his changes.

A third voice joined in with the conversation, but this time it was one that Ciel reluctantly welcomed. Niam was innocent when it came to what his problem was: old enough to understand why he was upset, but young enough to not particularly care. And besides that . . . in the month that his parents had been missing, the toddler had begun seeking Ciel's presence more and more. He was lonely, and though Ciel didn't particularly understand why Niam liked him so much, he did understand the need to be near someone he felt safe with.

"Can I come in?" the child called.

"Only you," he replied slowly, pulling the cover over his head in the off chance that Meirin or Bard decided to peek into the room.

The door swung open near-silently, and he could hear the sound of tense breathing coming from the two servants only briefly before the door clicked again, this time to signal that it had closed. "Lottie wants me to tell you she thinks you're stupid," Niam announced tonelessly. "So do I. You can't ignore them. Cuz . . . they care about you, you know?"

Ciel chose not to answer and merely slid his comforter back down to his shoulders. Charlotte often sent messages such as those with her youngest brother. It was obvious that she was trying to guilt trip him, and to her chagrin it was not working. He already knew they cared about him. If they didn't they wouldn't have taken the time every morning to try and get a response out of him. They would have given up weeks ago. But she didn't understand that it was more than letting them see he was alright. He didn't want them to know of his true nature. Perhaps he would have braved leaving his room if he weren't afraid of his eyes flashing red or his teeth growing into inhumane fangs. He absolutely could not let the servants know just what he was. It would be the death of them . . . and probably the death of the last shreds of his sanity.

Niam jumped onto the bed with little regard to Ciel's opinion. The toddler crept over to the demon's side, resting his head against one of Ciel's arms. "Why do you always hide your eye?" he asked innocently. "It's all better, so it looks normal."

"I don't like looking at it." There was no point in lying to the kid, he thought bleakly. Niam could see through just about any falsehood he tried to spit out.

"Is it because I got rid of the Contract? I know it is. I'm sorry, I really didn't—"

"Niam, you have apologized far too many times to be reasonable." Reluctantly Ciel placed a hand on his head, calming the child's jerky movements. "I will tell you yet again, it was not your fault. However, perhaps you should not listen to your sister so often. She seems to get you into more trouble than you can manage."

"Ciel?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it too late to rescue Mother?" Niam bit his lip, head tilted up just slightly to catch the boy demon's one-eyed gaze. "We keep sitting here and not doing anything, and we haven't _heard _anything, and . . . I really don't want anything bad to happen."

"Mr. Spears said we had three months." It was true that they had made no further efforts to rescue Lizzy, but that wasn't entirely their fault. They had received no clues, no signs of her presence or her husband's . . . and without a lead, they had nowhere to go. Viscount Childs had essentially covered his tracks too perfectly. There were no openings in his scheme, and without Sebastian, Ciel doubted that they would find Elizabeth in time. Of course, he wasn't about to tell Lizzy's child that bit of information. "Only one has passed," he announced reassuringly. "We still have plenty of time to find her."

"That's what 'Saiah said, but we never go do anything. We just stay here. I miss Mother, I want her back."

"Everyone is waiting on me," Ciel sighed in response, turning his head to face the curtain-covered window. "You should go without me. I can only be a burden to the operation at this point."

"You won't be if you eat something," Niam pointed out. "Why are you starving yourself? Even Lottie went to get something for us to eat the other night. She says it's not right for you to starve, because you're still a fledgling, a demon baby. You can't go for very long without eating."

"I cannot say I am very efficient in catching my own food. Sebastian always performed that action for me."

"He was teaching you." Niam frowned. "I miss Sebastian too. I wish he'd come back, but . . . do you think he ever will at this point?"

"Not particularly. He has no reason to return anymore. Why should he return to something like this? It is beyond him now that he is free. He will not stoop as low as to help us rescue a human."

"I don't think Sebastian is that heartless."

"He is a demon," Ciel stated dully, as though that was the answer to all of his problems.

"Um . . . your eye is staying normal right now, so maybe you should come out for awhile. You know, so everyone doesn't think you're trying to kill yourself in here or something."

"That's what they think?"

"Not really. Well, kind of." Niam frowned as he thought about it. "They know you aren't going to kill yourself, and they don't know you can't. But they think . . . they think you just don't care anymore. Are they right?"

"I don't know," he replied softly. About the world . . . he really _didn't _care anymore. He didn't care before everything happened, but the fact that he was alone just made it worse. But he did care about his own life. Here or not, Sebastian would have his head if he heard that Ciel had given up on living altogether. He had to keep pushing forward at some point, because that was the way a Phantomhive dealt with things.

Still . . . he deserved a brief break from that burden, didn't he?

"I won't come out," he stated quietly. "I refuse for the moment. Perhaps at another time."

"Kay." Niam slid off the edge of the bed and made his way over to the door again, and Ciel couldn't help but to notice that he'd disappointed the child. There was a look of slight despair in the cerulean eyes, and as the toddler turned to look at him one more time, he shuddered to think that the look in his eyes almost perfectly matched his own. "I'll keep asking," he said quietly. "Can I come in again sometime?"

"I don't mind if you come in."

"Bye."

Sometimes, Ciel thought as the door closed behind his former guest, Niam acted much too old for his age. He knew that when he was four, he hadn't been serious at all. He'd been a playful child, happy above all and uncaring to the real horror that was the world. Niam was too exposed already, and he'd suffered loss at a young age. If it went on for much longer . . . the toddler could very well turn out to be just like him. That in itself was something Ciel would never wish on another person. If he wanted to halt the evolution towards utter remorse, then there was only one thing he could truly do for the boy.

He had to rescue Elizabeth at all costs, even if it meant his own death.

The pristine covers of his bed slid down his bare legs as he pushed them aside and shifted over to the edge of the bed. Gradually he moved his way over to the sheltered window, where he drew back the curtains and stared down at his front lawn. Throughout the years it had never changed, still looking as carefully preened and cared for as it had twenty years ago. As he stood there in a white button-up nightshirt, he could bring himself to believe that things were the same as they had been back then, back when he had a purpose to his life.

That was the thing, wasn't it? Lying in bed all day and wallowing about his own despair was something he never should have stooped to. Back then he had a drive to keep him going. The thought of revenge on the cult that had tortured him had urged him forward on a daily basis, making the punishment that had been his life move onward towards something promising. He needed that driving force in him once more. He needed _something _to push him forward. This deal with finding Elizabeth and figuring out what Viscount Childs wanted with him . . . that was the key. If he could hold onto that, believe that he could succeed even without Sebastian's aid, then at least that meant the world around him could keep moving. It would mean his life had a purpose once more, instead of being deadweight.

Ciel sighed softly to himself and leaned forward, pressing his forehead into the cool glass of the window. Knowing what he had to do was one thing. But getting to that point . . . finding where Elizabeth and Edward were would prove to be subtly more difficult. However, he was sure that he would find a mistake in the other demon's plans, now that he was determined to find one. Still . . . he'd looked everywhere that could provide any answers. The best thing to do then was to backtrack, go back over his own steps and double check everything. Also—and he was ashamed to admit it—he had never thought to question the inhabitants of his own manor. Lizzy had been around them several times in the past few years. It was clear that Edward had not forbidden her from coming to see the servants of Phantomhive Manor. She would have told them all about her life, because that was the way she was. If there was a place Mr. Childs was fond of, they would have heard it from her.

Of course, in order to question the servants he had to find the strength to go and stand in front of humans—he tried not to think of them as meals—and control his demonic side long enough to get the answers he was seeking. He had no idea how to do it . . .

Wait. There was something Sebastian had always done when his other form had taken control, something to push back the feral self that he had become. He had to _think _about doing it, of course, but with the right amount of concentration he should be able to keep his calm. He had to pretend he was human . . . pretend that the people he was standing near didn't smell appetizing to him. If he could ignore it, for just a short length of time, he could hide it as well as if he had truly been human. It was a risk but . . .

For the moment, it was one he decided that he needed to take.

The business with Ash/Angela . . . he wanted to figure that out too. They had started heading down that trail with the intent of finding a way to break the Contract . . . but it was clear that his parents had been an active part in a Contract of their own. Even if it no longer concerned him, he wanted to know what all of that was about. _Who _had his parents Contracted with? And did they have a half demon break it, just as Niam had done to him? They were questions that he wanted answered, and he was going to solve that mystery. Perhaps not before they rescued Elizabeth, but in the end, at least now he knew there was something worth pushing forward for.

He retreated from the window and headed for his wardrobe. One of the servants had taken the consideration to travel to the townhouse and bring back some of his clothes, along with his pillow and the small framed picture of his family that contained the Contract mark. He wouldn't heave the townhouse abandoned, of course; he would come back to it once this ordeal was over, even if it was particularly lonely to live by himself. He couldn't stay in the old manor forever, even if the servants wanted him to. It wasn't his life anymore. It was in his past.

He let his eyes skim over the blues and greens, automatically discarding them as the appropriate attire for the day. Over the past few weeks he'd grown more accustomed to the droll outfits that Sebastian had purchased after his change. Now there was something comforting about the black fabric, and there was more beauty in it than he had ever seen before. Black was mystery, darkness, evil in its purest form. And he, appearance-wise, was the epitome of an innocent child who knew nothing of the world's cruelties. The black clothing was a stark contrast to his looks, and the more he looked at them, the more he realized that they resembled what was left of his soul.

He needed a bath, of course; he hadn't taken one in days and couldn't be bothered to do so now. Sebastian would have reprimanded him for sure, but Sebastian wasn't there now, and he didn't care. He would never leave the safety of the mansion in this manner, but among the servants and old friends he was perfectly comfortable like that. He knew that no matter what his appearance was, they would never condone him for it.

Eventually he chose a simple black outfit, one without too much extra fabric and extravagance. Again, it was something he would only wear in the presence of familiar people. As a nobleman he would have been admonished for wearing something so plain, but free of that burden, he was open to wearing whatever he chose would be right for him. He pulled himself into the clothes without regard for kindness to the fabric, and it ended rumpled and wrinkled long before he got himself settled in it. He didn't look in the mirror; he knew he would only see a disaster—

"Is that the appearance a Phantomhive should present himself in?"

What the—

That _voice_ . . .

He was too smart to believe that he was hallucinating, at this point. That voice was too close to him, too _real, _to have imagined it. But still, he had to check, had to make sure . . .

"Sebastian?" he whispered hollowly.

"Unless you have decided to alter my name during my absence I do believe I am still Sebastian."

He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the confirmation . . . and yet he still refused to turn around and see the man for himself. Just _how _was that possible? He'd thought for certain . . . no, he'd _known _that Sebastian wouldn't be coming back. Why should he have to? So why did he come back? Why would he come back to the one thing that had kept his freedom away from him? It was . . .

Unfathomable.

"Why are you here?" he hissed then, just as quietly as before. "Why did you even bother coming back?"

"I promised you before, did I not? I would not leave you, regardless of the circumstances. I will always come back."

"Y-You were just saying that to . . . pacify me, I was sure . . ."

"Have I not told you many times before? I do not lie. And that, Young Master, will _always _be the case. If I say I will not leave you, I mean it, from the bottom of my heart . . . because as much as you try to deny it, even we monsters have them. Turn to look at me, if you please. It is rather aggravating to speak to you in this fashion."

"I don't want to see you."

"Then I shall leave until you change your mind—"

"No!"

It was selfish to want Sebastian there but not to want to see him. But he couldn't allow the demon back out of his sight again . . . not if what he was saying was actually true. He didn't think he could take the butler walking out on him twice in a row. That was why he didn't want to see him . . . because he knew that once he saw those burgundy eyes he would never be able to let him go, former beliefs be damned. He had to be _sure_.

"Then what will you have me do . . . _Ciel_?" The tone of Sebastian's voice had changed from faint amusement to honest confusion. No, he really wasn't making any sense, and he knew that. But at the very least, the former butler was being patient with him.

"I . . . I want you to prove it. Prove you won't leave again. Show me why I deserve to have you with me. I . . ."

"I can do that. And you would prefer not to look upon me until I have proven myself . . . is that correct?"

"Right."

"Very well."

And in the next moment, all Ciel could see was darkness. Darkness, and all he could feel was a soft, pristine glove over his eyes, hiding the room from view. "What are you doing?" he demanded frantically, disoriented from the sudden blindness.

"Proving myself, my Lord, in the best way I know how," was the smooth reply, and it came next to his ear, the demon's breath ghosting over the sensitive skin.

And then Ciel knew exactly how Sebastian would prove it.

Even more than that, he knew he was going to believe that proof.

Firm lips pressed against his mouth, pushing gently and without any driving force. Heat rushed through Ciel's body at the simple action, flooding his senses with the knowledge that this was _right_, this situation. It was meant to be right all along. How did he not realize it before, when Sebastian had first kissed him in the carriage outside of M.E.L.T.? This sense that what Sebastian was doing to him belonged, and it always had.

Sebastian _belonged _with him.

He didn't need to free Sebastian, because he had been free all along. He just hadn't realized it.

Ciel reached up and took hold of the older demon's wrist. He held it in place for only a moment—over his eyes, covering the sight of the one he needed most—almost afraid that he would find an imposter in front of him. But he knew that wasn't so. And he pulled the hand away from his eyes, and blinked up at the demon that had eternally saved him twice now.

The sight wasn't one he expected to find, to say the least.

His butler was covered from head to toe in grime, brown blood dried and flaking on his normally impeccable attire. Said clothes were ripped in more than one place, and one sleeve hung on only by a small swatch of fabric still attached to the shoulder. Luckily the demon didn't seem to be injured himself, but that only led Ciel to wonder just what had gone on in the past month. But it was Sebastian's face that held his interest even more than the outfit, because the butler looked _tired_. Not in a physical sense, of course, as sleep was an unneeded luxury even for Ciel . . . but all he needed to take was one look in the demon's eyes to know that he was mentally exhausted. Whatever had transpired during his absence had been anything but pleasant.

And clearly . . .

Clearly he couldn't have come back even if he had wanted to.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I was wrong to say that the mission I was assigned in the underworld would take a few hours. The situation was worse than I had anticipated . . . much worse. It was only just settled. I came as soon as the dispute was over." Sebastian bowed his head slightly as a form of apology. "I wished to come the moment I felt our Contract severe its ties, but was unable to. How was that achieved, My Lord?"

"You should have known of a way to break the Contract. It was far too easy, Sebastian. All it took was a half-demon." Yes, Sebastian _must _have known about it. But Ciel couldn't particularly blame him this time; it was obvious that the butler didn't want to break it. And if he'd had the brains enough to realize that beforehand, none of this miserable mess would have happened, he supposed. But it was already done, and the only one who would take the burden would be himself. He was the one that didn't believe Sebastian.

But not anymore.

And as he thought, Sebastian nodded reluctantly. "You are correct, Young Master. I knew of that method. However, I did want to keep the Contract for as long as possible."

"Why?"

"A sentimental reason, really. It was connecting us together, and I . . . forgive me for being blunt and selfish, Young Master, but I rather liked the idea of you being tied to me for all of eternity."

"It sounds so pointlessly romantic," Ciel couldn't help but to snort, an effort to hide the embarrassing thump in his chest at the demon's words. "Besides, if you promised not to leave me, then . . . Sebastian, is that not a bind enough? You know I hold you to your word. And, once again . . . you do not lie. Leaving me would constitute a lie. That is like tying us up together with a coarse rope, though perhaps not in a physical form any longer." He frowned then, annoyed at the entire conversation. He didn't want to think of the Contract any longer . . . because he didn't want to admit to Sebastian that he missed it.

Instead he merely let go of the butler's wrist and let his hand drop back down to his side. "You look disgusting."

"I apologize. However, I assumed that the Young Master would be outraged to find that I had put my own care in front of yours. That is not the way of a proper butler."

"Don't be silly," he whispered regretfully, "those terms are over. You are no longer compelled to serve under me, and I will not force you to. I know you always despised your job as—"

"I rather enjoyed my job as your faithful servant," was Sebastian's curt reply. "If you are so inclined, I would ask to stay on as an employee of yours. I hardy think I could find myself doing something else."

Ciel's only outward appearance of surprise was the single blink of his eyes, but inwardly he was shocked. He had assumed that Sebastian would at least take the opportunity to be treated as an equal by his side . . . not that he would _want _to continue to serve below him. Of course, the habit to treat Sebastian like a servant had gone away years ago; that much was true. Sebastian made the motions without an order, and it worked out well. If they wanted to continue that way . . .

"If it is what you want," he answered offhandedly. "But only on one condition."

"And that is?"

"No more 'My Lord' or 'Young Master'. Particularly not if you want . . . if you want a relationship that constitutes more than just a servant to master relationship. Do you understand?"

And the black-haired demon smiled so innocently and understandingly that Ciel almost rejected the offer altogether. As it was, Sebastian only said, "I will try, but it will take a long time to break what has become a fast habit. I am sure you understand. However . . . pertaining to the "relationship" you have mentioned . . ."

Ciel flinched.

"What I want and what you want could very well be two different things. Ciel . . . do you want to be with me in such a way? I have longed for the closeness of a . . . romantic endeavor with you, but I will not force myself upon you. I need your permission before I do anything. Demon I am, but I am not a cruel one. At least, not to you."

In that, at least, Ciel had no doubt. But . . . putting it to words would be a problem. Slowly, avoiding the bloodied clothes his butler donned, he reached up and took one gloved hand again. "I . . ." he started slowly, "have no qualms about joining you in this 'endeavor', as you say. As long as . . . I am allowed to back out at any time, in case of . . . anything going wrong. I am not sure I can be faithful at this point. Not until my own fears have been taken care of."

"We have an eternity to work that out, if we need it," Sebastian offered helpfully.

"You sound ridiculously cheesy," the boy snorted, hardly believing that such words were emerging from the elder demon's mouth. "As I said before, you look a fright. I suggest you make yourself presentable or I may just throw you back out of the mansion."

"Ah, but you would never do that, would you? From the looks of it you have been quite lonely without me by your side. Perhaps you assumed I would not be returning at all?"

"I _did _assume," Ciel responded coldly. "In fact, it was not an assumption. Finnian himself tried to tell me otherwise . . . but Sebastian, I was certain you were not coming back. I was resigned to that fact."

"And now you are not."

"Clearly that is the case. You are here now. And I know you are not going to leave again. Unless you absolutely have to. Am I correct?"

"You are, Young Master."

"It's Ciel."

Sebastian smirked, inclining his head only slightly to acknowledge the title change. "I will only ever call you that in private, you know."

"Since when does it particularly matter? We are no longer a part of society. It is not like I care if rumors spread of a butler calling his master by name. It is a ridiculous rule, in any case. You are servants, not slaves."

"Twenty years ago you would not have even considered it."

"Twenty years ago I had a reputation to uphold." He crossed his arms over his chest, tiring of the conversation already. Instead he ran his eyes over his butler's bloodied frock once more and said for the third time, "Clean up. Honestly, I feel I should not bother talking to you until you have made yourself presentable. Appearing before your Master like this . . . it is despicable."

"That sounds vaguely like something you would say, I think," Sebastian chuckled. "Very well. I will make myself presentable once more . . . on one condition."

"And what is that?"

"You allow me to run a bath for you first. I will not have you approaching anyone in this household, servant or not, in such a state. You look as though you have not washed in days."

"That's because I haven't," he muttered ruefully. "Alright, then. But I will not allow you to touch me with such disgusting clothes. At least change into something clean first. And make sure you are not seen, or they will wonder."

The butler bowed and muttered his signature, "Yes, my Lord," before exiting the room. Ciel's eye followed him until the door swung shut and covered the last bit of black fabric from his sight. And once he was gone . . .

Ciel fell back onto the bed, allowing his breaths to become erratic and his trembling to go out of control. It was really him, and he wasn't dreaming—of course not, demons didn't dream—and he could hardly get his mind around that fact. He understood now, too, and that made all the difference. Sebastian had already had all the freedom he wanted in the trapped position. The Contract had made him free to protect his Master, free to watch over him. It was just an excuse, really, but . . . he'd never had Ciel's permission to do it without the Contract, and now he did. The Contract didn't matter anymore.

Or did it? Because . . .

"_I rather liked the idea of being tied to you for all of eternity . . ."_

Well, it was too late for that, wasn't it?

He slowly pushed himself back up off of the bed and crept his way to the bathroom. If Sebastian were going to stay with him from now on—and he was still not going to hold onto that hope, even if he knew the truth—he would have to be informed about the situation with Lizzy. They'd gotten nowhere in the past month. No one had seen any signs of existence from the married couple. It was like . . . they had simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

And that thought had Ciel praying fervently that Edward Childs hadn't the gall to bring his childhood fiancé to Hell.

Sebastian was waiting for him, standing next to a drawn bath that smelled faintly of apples. The elder demon had changed into a simple white frock but had left his original slacks on. Ciel smirked, shaking his head slightly in amazement. "You never waste any time."

"You wanted to leave your room, did you not? We must clean ourselves so that you may continue on your way."

"I wasn't in _that _much of a hurry," he griped without any real conviction. "It is not like I have anything to say in reality."

"You were thinking of something when I returned, Young Master, were you not?" The butler gestured, and Ciel began to undress, letting his clothes fall haphazardly onto the bathroom floor.

"I wasn't holed up in my room without a reason," he explained dryly as he slid out of his shorts. "I was going to go down to speak with everyone until you interrupted. It isn't particularly a good idea, but I did not want them to think that I was completely ignoring them."

Sebastian moved as he spoke, shifting all of the bath supplies within reach and settling a towel on a rack. "And what were you doing locked in your room, if that is the case?"

"Is it not obvious? I—ugh . . ."

The change from normal appearance to his demon side flashed through him too fast to be safe; there was no time to wait for the fangs to grow or for his scent to grow stronger. He stumbled from the abrupt shift and nearly fell to the floor, but Sebastian was there, as always, catching him before he could embarrass himself.

"Young Master," the older demon stated urgently, "when was the last time you fed?"

"Before you left," he hissed, gripping at his head as a splitting headache arrived along with the changes. "You can't have expected me to find something to eat on my own. The Contract is broken; any number of creatures could come after me. You told me this yourself. It has only been a month; it hardly warrants the concern you are showing—"

"Wrong." Sebastian's voice was dangerous and dark . . . like it was when something had annoyed him beyond his limit. But it wasn't the same this time; it was tinged with a tone of worry. "Any longer and one of your beloved servants would have been your next meal, whether you wanted it to be or not."

"I was controlling it . . ."

"You were going to talk to them. Young Master, you are a fledgling in the eyes of the demons, a babe. When you are around other humans, you cannot afford to be hungry. It risks someone's life. If you had gone downstairs, one of them would be dead before you could say anything to them. You would react without thinking."

"So I need to eat." A frustrated sigh broke free as Ciel moved away from Sebastian's grasp. "How am I supposed to do that if I can't have human contact? If I leave I will surely pass someone on the way to the front door."

"We shall have to make do with what we have," Sebastian admitted reluctantly, "though I am sure you will loathe this method."

"If you are so certain I will not like it, then why are you even _suggesting_—"

Sebastian kissed him without warning, bringing it straight to an openmouthed suck before Ciel could even react. Fortunately for Sebastian, it had him sold the moment their mouths touched again; the demon boy forgot completely about what they had just been talking about and eagerly kissed back. Kisses were addicting and calming . . . they seemed to really let him know that the demon wasn't going to leave. It made that promise a sure thing. But . . . he really shouldn't be doing this sort of thing in the middle of the bathroom . . .

Then the butler coughed into his mouth, and before he could pull away in utter disgust, something filled his mouth. He immediately recognized the taste of a human soul, and he realized what Sebastian had done: he'd "vomited" his last meal back up so that Ciel could eat it. It was dirty, vile, and he would have liked to spit it right back out . . .

But the second his senses were assaulted with the food in his mouth, any common sense he'd latched onto was gone. His demon side took over, craving the meal regardless of where it came from. He squeezed his eyes shut, lips still locked with Sebastian's, as he swallowed the filling meal. His body shuddered with relief, and he was able to return to his normal appearance without a struggle, his hunger sated for the time being.

"That was disgusting," he spat as soon as he could, pulling his mouth away from Sebastian's.

"Ah, but it did the job, Young Master," the older demon chuckled pleasantly. "You already look much better. Perhaps later you can go and get yourself a proper meal, but for now, that has done its job."

". . . Thank you," he muttered reluctantly. Sebastian was right; it may not have been the ideal way to obtain his lunch, but it had definitely done a good job at sating him.

Sebastian blinked, seeming thoroughly surprised by the quiet gratitude. Ciel knew he rarely thanked the butler for anything—didn't have a need to, really, since Sebastian was supposed to do everything for him anyway—but he felt that the elder demon deserved it after that stunt. Who knew when that meal had been first devoured? He had no doubts that Sebastian was hungry now, perhaps just as much as he had been. But there was a difference, he supposed. He did not know how old Sebastian really was, but quite obviously he was no longer a fledgling. A few more hours without a meal would not do anything to his control. Unlike Ciel, he would be perfectly fine.

Still, he could not resist asking, "Are you hungry now?" He was a tad curious, despite his knowledge. The elder demon didn't _look _any different than before, but that didn't mean anything.

To his slight alarm, Sebastian didn't answer right off; instead, burgundy eyes skimmed their way down Ciel's slight form, in a way that made him feel a bit more naked than he already was.

"Sebastian . . .?"

"I think," the butler announced slowly, "that the favor should be returned. I fed you . . . now, Young Master, you should feed me."

"How exactly should I do that?" he huffed, not at all amused by the predatory look in his servant's eyes. At the same time . . . something else in that glance made his body flood with heat, like he was being scalded with a red-hot brand. He wasn't sure how to react to it.

Sebastian's hands, shockingly freed of their usual restricting gloves, pushed down onto Ciel's shoulders with a firm pressure. Before Ciel could even utter a "What are you doing?" their mouths became connected for the third time in the past ten minutes. There was an energy there that hadn't been present in any of the former kisses, bringing out a demon's true nature: that everything was about lust and sin. Sebastian's tongue was fast, almost too fast, and it clearly announced his dominance over the fledgling. Ciel could barely do anything except cling onto Sebastian's white undershirt, trying to retain a sense of sanity as he was overpowered.

"S-Sebastian, wait—mmph!" His mouth was plundered again and again, the elder demon's tongue a fire that spread all through his insides and caused him to shamelessly moan against the other being. This was _way _too different than before . . . it was new, something he was entirely unused to and probably would _never _get used to. This was passion at its finest. He'd been kissed before—sloppy, disgusting kisses during his month in captivity—but it was nothing like this. Nothing would ever be like this. To feel so dominated, and worse, to _like _it . . . this was something only one person would have the ability to do. He knew that.

Besides that, Sebastian was the only one he would _let _touch him in such a bold way.

"How is this—ah—feeding you?" he demanded the moment he had a chance to speak properly, his head jerked away from Sebastian's questing mouth as he struggled to breathe. He didn't get an answer, though; instead he was the one to make the next sound, yelping a bit in surprise as he felt that mouth start trailing kisses down the column of his throat. He shivered, backing up as much as he could while still in the butler's firm grip, until his back hit the edge of a porcelain sink and he couldn't move anymore. The mouth on his neck felt . . . nice, in a weird kind of way, and without his control he found his head tilting back to give Sebastian more access. His fingers were beginning to grip the white shirt too tightly; Ciel could practically hear the stitches ripping as he clutched frantically at his one lifeline. If he let go of that physical thing, he felt like he would lose his mental stability as well.

Finally, Sebastian answered, raising his head long enough to provide Ciel with a signature smirk as he whispered into the boy's bright red ear, "_You _shall be my meal for the time being."

And then he bent back to Ciel's neck, licking a saliva-trodden trail down to the demon child's collarbone.

There was a nagging voice in the back of his head that told him they were moving too fast, that they should slow down and take things naturally, but damn it, he had not seen this demon in a month, and he was going to keep him around in any way he was presented with. Besides, it . . . felt _right_. They were demons, after all. The embodiment of sin. And Lust was near the top of the list.

If he couldn't indulge a bit in his own nature, then what kind of a demon was he?

The bite to his collarbone should have been painful more than anything, but another moan left his mouth as Sebastian sank fangs deep into the junction between the bone and his neck. He still gripped the white shirt; the fabric was definitely beginning to tear now, just below his frantic grip. He couldn't be bothered to care anymore, though. A shirt was just that: a shirt. Sebastian could always get another one. This . . . what was happening at the moment was something that he might only ever get to experience once, for all he knew.

His body was maneuvered around abruptly, his back hitting the hard tile floor of the bathroom before his brain registered the movement. All of a sudden he found himself staring up at the butler, his legs splayed out on either side of the other's. Completely at the devil's mercy.

He found himself liking that even more.

Sebastian settled in just above him, so close that their foreheads were almost touching as he stared amusedly into Ciel's one uncovered eye. "I am surprised you have not yet ordered me to stop, Young Master," the man chuckled.

"Wouldn't do me any good," Ciel mumbled back . . . not that he had been thinking of ordering the butler to stop anyway.

"Good point," Sebastian replied slowly. Then he reached for the eye patch.

Ciel stiffened. He didn't exactly want Sebastian to take it off . . . but at the same time, the elder demon knew everything. Therefore he knew that Ciel's other eye would look . . . normal. The same as his left eye. He just didn't like thinking about it, he supposed. If there was nothing wrong, then there was no reason to keep hiding it.

Or so it was supposed to be, but . . .

Sebastian worked the knot with one hand as the other traced idle patterns on Ciel's chest . . . random patterns that made his body shake even though he was nervous about his eye. And when the eye patch came off, sliding down over his right cheek and landing in a sad little pile on the bathroom floor, he looked up at his butler through two identical eyes. The demon's hand slid down that cheek as well, stroking the area under the eye with a gentleness Ciel had always thought he was incapable. "I always have been fond of the color of your eyes," Sebastian admitted, "more so than the purple of the Contract. I am not sad to see it go."

Ciel scowled, reaching his hand up to brush off Sebastian's. "It looks out of place when I see it now."

"That is because you have not looked for long enough. You have to get used to it."

"Are you hungry or what?"

"Ever so impatient," Sebastian sighed dramatically . . .

And then promptly joined their mouths again, nipping at Ciel's bottom lip until he obediently made room for the demon's tongue. It was different lying down, and it made him wonder if he would think _every _kiss Sebastian gave him was different, unique in its own way. The chances were, it would be. This one promised something more, something that would come after. What would the next one be like?

Would it be one that signaled a goodbye?

Another bite to his neck had him arching up into Sebastian, and with it came a sudden, hot pressure that had him gasping and flushing in embarrassment. He knew the _implications _of this sort of thing, but he had never actually experienced it, and it caused oddly pleasant and yet painful sensations to go rushing through his body. Was this what sex would be like? He'd been raped during that month of captivity, but never had it been pleasant. He had never understood how it _could _be. Perhaps . . . perhaps Sebastian would give him a chance to find that out.

Fingers that reached up to grab at the shirt again found bare skin instead; Ciel jumped as the tips brushed against Sebastian's bare chest. Somehow the demon had taken off that crisp white undershirt without the boy even noticing, and he found himself staring at a broad expanse of tanned chest.

"What form are you most comfortable in?" he questioned idly as he reached further up, grabbing onto Sebastian's shoulders instead. "You created this form to pacify me, but surely you have a form that you find more suitable."

The butler paused, casting a questioning look in Ciel's direction as though the simple inquiry were strange to him. "I have forgotten all other forms I may have enjoyed. This is the only one I will tolerate any longer. Besides, you like me like this, do you not?"

"Mm." He nodded in agreement, eyes flickering over the black locks on Sebastian's head as the demon bent back down to what he was doing. That was true, but in all reality, this was the only form he had ever seen the butler in. Had he been in the form of a woman at one point? Had he taken the form of a hideous man to please his past Contractors? They were questions that, while not very important, had always filled his mind. He wanted to know.

That train of thought was forgotten the moment Sebastian's mouth moved lower than before, kissing over his collarbone and down into the beginnings of his bare chest. His skin was tingling everywhere that those devilish lips had touched, and he was trembling . . . for what reason, he didn't know. But then Sebastian's tongue lapped against the tip of one of his nipples, and he didn't _care _anymore, as long as he could feel that pleasure coursing through him. His fingers scrabbled at the tender, yet fake, skin of Sebastian's neck, fighting to hold onto something as white-hot heat thudded down to his lower regions. No, he had never experienced anything like this before. That month in captivity could be forgotten in this atmosphere, even the brutal rape. Sebastian, demon as he may be, would never hurt him that way.

Or maybe it was just different because of who it was.

Sebastian's hand snaked downwards, blazing a hot line across Ciel's stomach before the fingers reached, and _grabbed_, and even covered by the thin pair of breeches he had yet to remove, he could tell that _this _was where he wanted to be touched, where he would go crazy with pleasure if it was allowed.

Briefly he remembered the other residents of the manor . . . but they were in the bathroom, on a floor the others were rarely allowed to traverse, and frankly, he could care less what they thought anymore. This was something he wanted.

"Oh?" Sebastian whispered—when had he moved his head back up?—in a predator-like tone. "For a demon, you are unusually sensitive here . . ."

He growled in response, far too embarrassed to say anything. Besides, Sebastian should know . . . he would always be in the body of a child . . . a child that would never know what having a deep voice would be like, or what it felt like to . . . well . . . something like this . . . maybe he shouldn't be feeling as good as he did, but puberty be damned, he didn't care. It felt good, right? Who cared if he had never done something like this before? "Just . . ." he hissed, squirming against the hand that fondled him, "Just . . .!"

"The Young Master does not like to be teased," Sebastian noted offhandedly. His hand left _that _spot, coming to caress the area of skin that met with the waistband of his breeches. Ciel kept his head facing upwards, unwilling to look down . . . the thought of what his butler was doing was embarrassing enough to _think _about, much less _look _at.

"O-Of course not," he stammered in response, doing his best to send a glare in the other's direction. "Since when have I ever . . ."

"Let us get right to it, then." The hand stroking that thin area between cloth and skin shifted, yanking down the fabric and tossing it off to the side like it was nothing. Ciel resisted the urge to squeak, but he couldn't stop the slight jerk of his legs to try and cover himself. It didn't matter that Sebastian had seen _every inch _of him in the past, because that was nothing and this was . . . well, something, he was sure. He felt _exposed_, and if it were anyone else, he would have disregarded dignity and got the hell out before anything could happen, but . . .

It was Sebastian, after all.

The hand stroked his trembling thigh, leaving languid, invisible lines on his skin, phantom touches even after the hand left the area. Slowly he felt himself relaxing, opening up to the atmosphere, and only then did he realize that that had been Sebastian's way of calming him down. Even like this, in the middle of the most primal act known to humans, he was still . . . lucid.

It made everything just a bit more open, even if Ciel did not say anything.

"Ahh—!" he cried out suddenly, arms tightening around Sebastian's neck; for the demon had, just for a second, brushed a finger against that sensitive part of him. His body trembled yet again with the sudden bout of want, and he found himself craning up, trying to find that touch again. That single flutter of fingers had made the white-hot heat rush through him ten times harder than it had just a minute ago. He was already craving it again . . . he wanted more.

Luckily, Sebastian complied. The man's fingers curled around him as his body touched the bathroom floor once more, and though he did not cry out again—_refused _to cry out again—his fingers tightened considerably on the ebony hair at Sebastian's nape. The demon's slender, long phalanges curled around his small erection, sliding up and down in a gentle rhythm that allowed the smaller demon to rock back against him. Sebastian's other hand slid up, curling around Ciel's neck as their lips found each others' again. The kiss was brutal, bordering on painful even, and he could lose himself in it if he really wanted to try. But . . .

Pressure was building in his lower regions, slowly changing from pleasurable to slightly painful, and he felt the need to release. But not yet, he couldn't bring himself to . . . not . . .

"S-Seba . . ." he tried to stutter out, only to end it on a moan as those feisty fingers moved even faster. Alabaster legs jerked in response, shaking hard with the passion coursing through his entire form. He fell silent again, breaths coming about loud and hot and uncontrolled. Sebastian's fingers became slick with the demon child's essence, sliding up and down with incredible ease.

Now he really couldn't hold it . . .

"Young Master," the butler whispered against his lips, pressing his gasping mouth closed, "are you willing to accept this side of me as well? I only want your trust."

_Still _talking about trust, even at a time such as _this_? Was it really that important? To Sebastian, following rules, blindly obeying his master . . . those were things he had always paid close attention to. But in order for that, he needed to know that he was _trusted _to do these things . . .

As the pressure increased, he gasped out a hurried "_Yes!_"

After this feat, how could he _not _trust him?

Then he couldn't hold it any longer and he let go, releasing his cum into Sebastian's hand with a strangled, soft cry, clinging to the butler as though his life depended on it.

Finally he slumped back, hands falling from Sebastian's neck to the floor as he struggled to maintain a steady breathing rate. That had been like nothing he had ever experienced before . . . especially not during his time in captivity. He felt certain that this was something only his butler could bring forth in him . . .

It was a weakness. One he liked, yes, but a weakness.

And only Sebastian was allowed to exploit his weaknesses.

"It seems I have an incubus on my hands," Sebastian chuckled, wiping his hands clean on a towel. "You quite surprised me, Young Master."

"Shut up," he muttered faintly, doing his best to push himself up into a sitting position. He supposed it was a good thing that demons did not require sleep; if he had been a human, he would have been utterly exhausted after such an excitement. "I still fail to see how that was a meal. You did not eat anything."

"Merely watching your face as you came was enough to sate my hunger," the demon chuckled. "Now! I believe we came in here to give you a bath . . . and now you need one even more. Come, Young Master, into the tub . . ."

* * *

"You have not been informed of the incident taking place, have you?" Ciel questioned, fingers skimming against the floor next to the tub as Sebastian lathered his hair.

"You have hinted at something being amiss, but you have not explained the details to me as of yet."

"Elizabeth has been taken," he announced dully; he did not particularly want to let Sebastian know just how concerned he was of the matter. "By her own husband. They never returned from their so-called date." He frowned, turning his head and dislodging Sebastian's fingers from his hair. "Why did you fail to inform me of the fact that Lizzy's children were half-demons?"

"It was inconsequential at that point in time, or so I thought."

"They claim that Mr. Childs wants to dispose of me. However, I see no real reason for wishing my death." He faced forward again at Sebastian's prodding. "In any case, I went to the Death Gods for assistance. Mr. Spears informed me that unless we interfere, Lizzy is due to die in two months now. We have had no luck this past month. It is as though they have simply vanished."

"That is impossible. I am sure that he has left tracks somewhere; as a demon, he seems rather foolish. Duck under, Young Master."

Ciel wasted a few precious seconds of his discussion as he slid his head underwater, rinsing the suds from his hair. "Then where else can we look?" he questioned as soon as he emerged once again.

"The best thing would be to backtrack." The washrag slid down one of his arms, washing away the grime that had collected from his inactivity over the past few days. "Have you visited the Childs family townhouse?"

"Yes. The only thing we discovered there was that Lizzy had not been prepared for a long trip, yet the Viscount _had _been. Most of his belongings were missing."

"I suggest you make another trip. There could be something you have overlooked. After you have properly eaten, I believe." Sebastian's tone was thoughtful; obviously he was intrigued by the mystery that had sprung up. "It is just like things were years ago, is it not, Young Master? Lady Elizabeth getting into trouble, and you rushing in to save her . . ."

"You know the reason why I continue to do that, even when she should be no concern of mine anymore." He leaned forward, giving Sebastian the space to wash his back. "Besides that, her children need her. She may never know that they are not entirely human, but I do not think that would matter if she did know. I merely want to reunite them . . ."

"You want to make sure they do not suffer in the way you did," Sebastian confirmed.

"Mm."

". . . Young Master, I will do my best to obtain Elizabeth Childs, even if you cannot order me to do so."

"And the Viscount?"

"If the children are correct and he is a threat to you, then I will make sure that he is unable to gain that chance . . . for good."

"Sebastian?"

The washrag slid around to start cleaning his front side.

"I . . . know nothing about myself as a demon. Am I correct?"

"If you are indicating your apparent lack of inhumane abilities, then yes you are," the demon replied earnestly.

Ciel sighed, leaning against the rim of the bathtub and resting one arm at his side. "I am completely helpless as a demon. I cannot defend myself, much less attack, and although I can still shoot a gun it would do no harm, and is therefore pointless. I need to learn to protect my own body. You cannot do it for me for eternity. Charlotte agrees; she believes that I need to be taught these things."

The washrag dropped down into the tub with a quiet splash. "I cannot simply teach you how to be a demon, my Lord. Especially not when you are not the same _type _of demon as I. You must find that out on your own."

"In which case I am supposed to pretend that I have the power to take out any demons who decide they want to slaughter me. That does not sound like a very good plan."

"To be perfectly honest, most demons have learned their talents when under the threat of death. Perhaps a situation such as that would be healthy for you, Young Master."

He snorted, rising from the now lukewarm water to step out of the tub. "You will never allow the danger to get that far, though. Not if you can help it."

"It is my duty as a butler, after all," Sebastian chuckled, holding open a thick towel for the boy to step into. "However, if the Viscount does try to attack you, Young Master, you will certainly need to be prepared. I shall plan a way to help you obtain your abilities beforehand."

Ciel nodded, burying his face into the thick warmth of the towel rather than answering. It wasn't that he really _wanted _to learn to fight like a demon. More or less, he felt like he had to. Sebastian couldn't _always _protect him from others of their kind. He had to know how to take care of himself. Besides, he wasn't going to rely on someone else to fight for him for . . . well, the rest of eternity.

"Why . . ." he murmured faintly, his words garbled by the towel, "Why do you care? I have been nothing but demanding, and because of me you were trapped for so long . . . why would you stay with someone like that?"

"Because it is you."

". . . Eh?"

The towel was pulled away from his face, a gentle hand pulling his chin up so that he could stare directly into his butler's face. "I have contracted with hundreds of unfortunate humans, Young Master, and I have devoured every single one of them with no ounce of hesitation. However, if you were to turn back to a human, I would not want your soul. You are the one master that I have never once wanted to leave. Not once have you bored me . . . except, perhaps, while you were lamenting too much over becoming a demon. I could care less about your soul at this point."

"Then . . ."

"Demons are the embodiment of sin . . . but that does not mean we cannot feel other emotions, Young Master. Please remember that."

"I know that," he sighed. "After all, I . . . if I can feel . . . then I . . ."

The bathroom door flew open, hitting the wall with a force that easily cracked it and jerked the door off of its hinges. Ciel whirled around, tugging his towel tighter around him with one hand and hastily yanking his other hand up to hide his right eye from view. It was Finny, of course, standing in the doorway with a nervous but determined expression on his face; he seemed hardly phased by Sebastian's appearance before him. No, his eyes were zeroed in completely on Ciel.

"There had better be a good reason you have come in uninvited, Finnian," he hissed, feeling far too exposed in his current state. "Otherwise—"

"Young Master, we don't know what to do!" the gardener yelled out in a voice far too high and panicked for a man his age.

"What is it?"

"It . . . It's Master Niam!"

* * *

**BWAHAHAHA CLIFFIE. *shot***

**Kay, guys, I am **_**so **_**sorry this took forever to finish. It's been a . . . slow month by way of writing. But! I'm determined to get the next update out a lot faster . . . and so hopefully that cliffie won't be a cliffie for too long, right? **

**It's a shorter chapter than usual, around 11k, but it was a morphing from the first arc into the second arc, so you can call it short but extremely important. So we can forget about all this ridiculous "Gawd, Ciel, stop being so dumb" crap and move on to this weird demon Viscount issue, right? Well, kind of. But you'll figure that out later.**

**ALSO. I wanted to remind you of what this story is really about: The Contracts. The arcs all have something to do with contracts . . . perhaps not in the literal sense, like a demon contract, but they connect. The first arc, which has just finished, was obviously the actual Covenant between Sebastian and Ciel. The second one . . . I'll let you figure that out for yourself. Just make sure to pay a lot of attention to the details. **

**Thanks so much for putting up with my fail posting. I'll try to do better next time, and if I don't, you have permission to complain all you want. I won't blame you at all. **

**Don't forget to R I'm always looking forward to what you think about the chapter, even if you weren't all that impressed by it. Your reviews help me to improve, and they also encourage me when I'm in a rut. **

**~Shadow**


	9. Chapter Eight: Remembrance

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the property of Toboso Yana.**

**Anon Review Replies for Chapter Seven:**

_**Lauri: **__Aww, thank you~ I've started several books but I haven't ever been able to finish one for publishing. But to know that the fanfic feels like a novel to you makes me feel very good~ Thanks for reading!_

_**Donna: **__I think he'll start growing a backbone at some point ;) As for the rest you'll just have to read it to find out~ I wouldn't want to ruin any surprises._

_**NamikazeH4: **__LOL, I'm sorry, I had to. Cliffies are so much fun to write~_

_**Polka dot: **__You'll be seeing more of those things in this chapter, actually, so I hope you enjoy it~_

_**Truth's Lie: **__FFF as much as I dislike Elizabeth, I don't . . . well no, that would ruin part of the plot. I'll shut up now._

_**Grappling banana: **__I'm very glad you like it! I've been slow at updating, I know, but that's my fault for working on so many projects at once. Updates will start moving faster soon~_

_**Emily: **__Haha, somehow the fact that you read it all at once makes me extremely happy. Thanks for liking it so much~! As far as the guess goes . . . well, I don't want to ruin anything, but I will say that you're pretty close to some of it~ _

* * *

**Lead-In to the Chapter:**

_The bathroom door flew open, hitting the wall with a force that easily cracked it and jerked the door off of its hinges. Ciel whirled around, tugging his towel tighter around him with one hand and hastily yanking his other hand up to hide his right eye from view. It was Finny, of course, standing in the doorway with a nervous but determined expression on his face; he seemed hardly phased by Sebastian's appearance before him. No, his eyes were zeroed in completely on Ciel._

"_There had better be a good reason you have come in uninvited, Finnian," he hissed, feeling far too exposed in his current state. "Otherwise—"_

"_Young Master, we don't know what to do!" the gardener yelled out in a voice far too high and panicked for a man his age. _

"_What is it?"_

"_It . . . It's Master Niam!"_

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Remembrance**

**.**

Ciel hastily fiddled with the cravat of an old red outfit Sebastian had pushed at him. Below, at the bottom of the stairs, he could hear a child's piercing wails, bouncing off of the vast walls of the manor. Sebastian walked behind him, his handsome face unreadable. Ciel himself was much calmer than he might have been just yesterday; the presence of his butler behind him made him feel more like himself . . . less vulnerable. His face belied none of the emotions rushing through his head at the moment. No one knew just how worried he was . . . and he _was _worried. Niam . . . Niam reminded him so much of the person he used to be, before he sank into that hellhole. At all costs . . . at all costs, he had to ensure that Elizabeth's youngest child _would _have a happy ending.

"It was horrible!" Finny breathlessly explained as they descended to the first floor. "He was fine one minute, and then . . . then he just collapsed! And Young Master . . . the other two children don't seem to care at all!"

Ciel's eyes, both undiscovered, darted over to Sebastian curiously. Burgundy eyes stared back, seeming to mirror his own thoughts on the matter: whatever was going on probably had nothing to do with the servants, and everything to do with the demons.

The crying was almost ridiculously louder on the ground floor; Ciel immediately turned to a hallway on his right, where the sounds were coming from. "Finny," he said firmly as he moved.

"My Lord?"

"I want you to wait in the entryway with the others."

"But Young Master—!"

"Finnian, do not disobey me. I need everyone to stay away. Do you understand?"

The blond stared at him for a few seconds, his lined face twisted in concentration . . . but in the end, Finny nodded and turned back towards the entryway.

"Have they been in the manor for as long as you have?" Sebastian demanded as they began to walk again. His tone was professional, expressing an urgent need to make sure everything would work out.

"Niam told me just this morning that Charlotte had brought them something to eat, but . . . surely if he had taken a meal he would be fine now?"

"Not necessarily. Those children are half-demons, Young Master, and the youngest is still developing. Their eating habits are going to be bipolar, you see."

"We will find out in a second, then," he sighed.

Ciel pushed open the door to Niam's temporary room without waiting for Sebastian to do it for him. The sight that met his eyes was less than pleasant; if he hadn't been though as much as he had, he might have turned around right there without bothering to help. The way it was, he flinched, mouth pulling down into a horrified frown.

Niam was clearly on the demon side of his existence, and probably in his true form; it was an odd twist between human and creature. The toddler's face was still cherubic, and at first glance he might look exactly the same as he had just a few hours ago. But his eyes were almost completely black, the only deviation being the slight hint of red rolling around frantically as his eyes jerked back and forth. His mouth was wide open, panting for little breaths of air, and Ciel could clearly see the fangs: softer and smaller than his own, but every bit as dangerous.

But that was not the worst of it.

The child's hands were twisted into grotesque claws, and though they were shorter than they might have been if he were older, they still looked far too dangerous. But . . . Niam must have been in an intolerable amount of pain, judging by his actions. He had plunged those claws into his upper arms, hands on the opposite sides, as he silently sobbed to himself.

Isaiah and Charlotte stood to the side, and as Finny had stated, they weren't doing a thing to help their brother's situation. However, the look pasted on Isaiah's face signaled that it was more likely that they _couldn't_ do anything. The boy simply could not be consoled. Ciel jerked his head over to them, where he was met with twin glances of worry and surprise. "What is going on?" he demanded.

"M-Mother's never seen him like this," Isaiah quickly blurted. "Whenever he does this we lock his door and say we're playing, so she won't bother coming in. B-But he gets so much _hungrier _than me and Lottie . . ."

"More than an average demon?" Sebastian interrupted calmly.

The two older siblings glanced at him with wide eyes, likely not having expected his presence there, but they answered him nonetheless. "It doesn't help that Father used to starve him," Charlotte announced coldly. "For two weeks one time; we thought he was going to kill himself. We had to tie his hands down to his bed to keep him from doing . . . that." She pointed to the blood staining the bed sheets below the toddler. "It's my fault; I should not have neglected to bring him a satisfying meal. We all need to eat, but it is not safe . . ."

"How do you calm him down?" Ciel made to move forward, but Lottie's swift hand pushed him back, and he bumped into Sebastian's chest in surprise.

"Not by going near him, that's for sure," she hissed. "That would be just as effective as someone being out to kill you. He is violent and inaccurate . . . he is dangerous. We can only wait it out."

Ciel frowned at this; somehow the thought that Niam's two siblings did not help him made them seem less humane than he was, even given the situation. "Sebastian," he said slowly, "only the half-demons can be killed by normal means . . . am I correct?"

"Yes, unless you possess a weapon meant for killing demons, such as the one Claude Faustus possessed."

"In other words, any injury Niam does to me will not kill me?"

"Yes, Young Master."

"You can't!" Charlotte continued to protest, her eyes flickering back to her brothers nervously. "Even if you cannot be killed, whatever injuries you _do _sustain will take time to heal! You have not learned how to speed your regeneration rate yet . . ."

"Then I will deal with it," he responded coldly. "As I recall, when I was his age and unhappy, I always looked for comfort. Whether he hurts you or not, the fact that you are not doing anything to calm him down makes me think that you do not really care."

"Mr. Sebastian!" she beseeched, her eyes jerked up behind Ciel's form.

If there was anyone who _could _have stopped Ciel at this point, it would have been the butler . . . but he merely lifted one shoulder into a shrug, completely ignoring the eldest sibling. Charlotte seemed to visibly deflate after that; she stepped back to her brother's side, not once moving close to the toddler's bed. Isaiah seemed upset by the entire situation, and Ciel wanted to bet that Charlotte had forced him to stay away as well.

From the bed, Niam let out a little cry that sounded more than vaguely human, and the blackened eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling much more than before.

Slowly Ciel stepped forward, his eyes locked on the claws that were the toddler's hands. The way they were, he doubted anything would come of the child trying to hurt him; he wouldn't have enough time to do anything before Ciel stepped back. But Niam didn't move; he stayed in that exact position, moaning faintly to himself. With this sight the young devil knelt down next to the bed.

If it were anyone else, anyone at _all_, he would never have done something like this. He was supposed to be emotionless, uncaring . . . he never had cared much about other people. At least, not enough to do something like this. But Niam was different. It wasn't that he reminded him of himself, per say . . . but wanted to do what he could for the child until they could get Lizzy back. If everything had not happened, if his parents had never died, if he had not met Sebastian, these might have been his children. He may not be mature enough—never would be, for that matter—but at the very least he could show that he cared. A bit.

"Niam," he said quietly.

Then the toddler jerked, his hands jerking out from his arms and flinging blood clear across the room. Ciel caught a quick glimpse of puckered skin just before the demon side took over, healing the wounds until there was no evidence of where those sharp claws had just been. The claws were directed at him now, and he flinched just a bit, waiting for the painful bite that would accompany getting stabbed . . .

But no.

Instead Ciel was pushed from his position onto the floor, legs sprawling out painfully as Niam threw himself into the Earl's arms. There was no stabbing, no clinging . . . just the weight of a child wrapping arms around his shoulders, eyes wide open and teary, frightened half to death. All Ciel could do was tentatively hug back, cocking his head around to stare condescendingly at the child's two older siblings. Charlotte at least had the decency to look guilty . . . in which case, he supposed he could forgive her for the time being.

As he turned his head back around, he caught sight of Sebastian watching him. The soft smile adorning his face, the one that did not fit at all on such a thing as a demon, caused him to frown slightly, but he did not say anything to him. Instead he faced back to the front and asked Charlotte, "Will he stay like this until he eats?"

"No. He'll calm down for awhile, but the longer he has to wait to eat, the longer the spells will last. We need to feed him."

"Sebastian?"

The butler nodded in agreement. "It seems that three of you will be joining us as we return to London to find our meals. We cannot risk you being here with the rest of the household."

"What are you doing back?" Lottie demanded. "After a month, surely we thought you would stay gone. Are you going to leave again? Leave your master to sulk around like he has no idea what to do with himself anymore?"

"I assure you, my Lady, I have no intention of doing that. I have merely come back to serve my Young Master after a sorely extended stay in my home world. It was not my intention to leave him for so long."

"Just . . ." The girl shook her head sharply. "Don't do it again. The entire household was miserable because of you. Because you left him."

Sebastian bowed slightly, his face a perfect mirror of solemnity. "Should anything of that sort occur again, you can rest easy knowing that I fully intend to take him with me."

". . . Good."

The room lapsed into silence other than Niam's continued sobs. Ciel could feel the child jerking every now and then, like he was in too much pain to control it but was trying anyway. However, slowly the cries quieted, and the weight around his neck that was the toddler's arms lightened considerably, leading him to think that his hands had returned to normal. Soon enough the cries were gone completely, leaving a shuddering child in its wake, looking absolutely miserable.

"Niam," Ciel breathed quietly, hoping that this time there would be a better response.

"'M alright," Lizzy's youngest child sniffed, refusing to let go of his hold on Ciel. "'M okay now. Just . . . just so _hungry _. . ."

"We will be taking a trip into London shortly," he told the toddler reassuringly. "By then it should be dark enough to dine privately. The rest of us are in need of eating as well."

"Okay."

"Sebastian. Prepare a carriage for us; I will let the household know that we will be going out for the evening."

"As you wish, my Lord," the butler stated calmly and bowed. Hardly a moment later he was gone, leaving them to prepare on their own.

"I am loathe to ask one of you to do such a thing because of your positions, but someone must clean the bed sheets before one of the servants see it. We do not want any unnecessary questions."

Wordlessly, Charlotte moved forward to strip the bed.

Ciel looked at Isaiah then, gauging the child's reaction to the entire situation. Once he deemed the middle child calm enough, he asked, "Can you gather a clean outfit for Niam? He cannot go out into the streets of London with bloodied clothing."

"A-Ah . . . yeah." Isaiah turned around, opening a small wardrobe on the other end of the room and bending to dig through it.

"C-Ciel?"

He jerked his head back down to Niam. He child was looking at him with blissfully _normal _eyes, much more composed that he'd been just a few moments before. "Yes?" he questioned curiously.

"I-I . . . um . . . thank you." He looked away, towards his brother. "Lottie is scared of me like that."

"Have you hurt her before?"

"Mm. It was just a scratch, but I didn't mean it, a-and . . . well . . ."

"A scratch should not scare her like that," Ciel growled, training his eyes on the girl standing on the other side of the bed. Lottie met his gaze equally, but the look in her eyes was ashamed; she knew what she had done wrong. That, at the very least, satisfied him.

"Your eyes . . ." Niam whispered, and a small hand came up to brush under his right orb. "I thought you didn't want to show it . . ."

"I did not think about hiding it," Ciel sighed. This unfortunately meant that Finny had seen what was underneath . . . he was lucky the servants would not dare to question him on this. Lau, however . . . he had best avoid the Chinese man until he had the patch over his eye again. Possibly Agni and Soma as well . . .

"Here," Isaiah announced, laying out an outfit for the toddler.

As Niam refused to move away from Ciel—a fact that the two older siblings found amusing—changing him into more decent clothes proved to be a problem. They managed, however, and a few moments later they found themselves out in the entryway, waiting patiently for Sebastian to arrive with the carriage, having already alerted Finny to their trip.

"Your clothes aren't in the best shape either, Earl," Charlotte pointed out.

She was right, of course; Niam's blood had gotten onto his white cravat and slight splatters were visible beneath his light green vest. However, they were in a hurry; he had no idea how long the toddler would last before his hunger overtook him again, and he would rather that not happen in the middle of a ride to London. "It is not as bad as his was," he brushed off. "It will be dark by the time we get there; no one will be able to tell."

"How come you aren't hungry?" Isaiah questioned, cocking his head to the side curiously. "You haven't eaten anything in a month. You have to be _starving_."

Keeping the blush from his face was harder than he though, but he managed. "Self control," he managed to spit out innocently, though the knowledge of Sebastian's more than passionate kiss in the bathroom earlier had him glancing away from the others like it could hide the truth in his eyes.

But luckily, Sebastian appeared then, with a large carriage at the ready, and the middle child forgot completely about the question. They climbed in, Niam still gripping firmly onto Ciel's shoulders, and promptly took their leave . . . where even Sebastian pushed the horses further than normal just to get to London at an earlier time.

* * *

"How do you expect all of us to eat at once?" Ciel demanded as he climbed out of the carriage some two hours later, still holding onto a very unhappy toddler. "There are too many of us. Surely they would notice the bodies."

"Lady Charlotte and Master Isaiah have already eaten enough to sustain them for awhile," Sebastian explained. They would not need much to keep them going, so I would assume that they are going to share a soul instead of each taking one for themselves."

"They can do that?"

"You have no need to learn the trick, given your appetite," the butler chuckled. "But yes, it is quite possible. However, Master Niam will need to dine on an entire soul, as will you and I, Young Master. Therefore, we will split up so that we do not have a pile of bodies by the time we are done. Miss Charlotte, you can watch your brothers well enough, can you not?"

"Of course I can," the girl huffed. "I am quite old enough to do such a thing. Mother often lets us walk through the winter fair by ourselves so long as I am watching out for them."

"Very good, my Lady. You and your siblings shall hunt here, and I will take my master a few streets down so that we may spread out."

"Alright. Come on, Niam. Time to eat."

Apparently Ciel's comfort was second to the need to hunt for food; the toddler squirmed immediately, urging the Earl to put him on his feet. He scampered off to join his family, leaving Ciel alone with Sebastian . . .

Which he was not complaining about, of course.

The place in which Sebastian had stopped at was blissfully close to the town house; Ciel had not been there in weeks, and he was beginning to think they should check up on it before their neighbors assumed that the house had been abandoned. That, undoubtedly, would be unfortunate on their part. If a house looked abandoned, it would be robbed faster than a demon could eat a soul, per say. For the moment, however, the town house would have to be put on the back shelf in his mind. Now that he knew they were going to hunt for food, his body was on the alert, already searching for a source of food.

And then he realized . . .

He wasn't at all nervous about it this time.

"Sebastian . . ."

"Young Master?" the elder demon questioned, eyes flickering to the side and back as he began searching for a good street to take their meals on. The butler seemed hungrier than he was letting on, but as he had said . . . he had had thousands of years of experience as far as self control went. He could hide his discomfort for much longer than Ciel could.

"I believe I want to do the killing this time around," he announced with certainty.

"Is that so?" Sebastian's eyes stopped wandering around. They settled on Ciel, mild amusement and curiosity sparking in them. "Last time was a rather large failure, so I assumed that you would not be willing to—"

"I am a demon," Ciel responded after taking a deep breath. "That fact will not change now. There is nothing I can do to deny what I have become. Rejecting this is only going to hurt me in the future . . . I am certain of that. I am willing now to learn about my heritage . . . as long as you will teach me, of course."

"The Young Master is correct, as always." Sebastian wrapped an arm around Ciel's back, pushing him down the street towards a few turn offs. "However, I will not allow for any mistakes this time. If you wish to truly become like a demon, you cannot back out."

"There is no room for backing out anymore. There should not have been any room in the first place." Ciel knew . . . he'd been stronger as a human, when he knew that his life would end in death. He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. Now he was hardly even willing to stay alive . . . and that needed to change. He needed a reason to keep going. For now, going to rescue Elizabeth would be that reason. And after he had done that—because he _would_, there was no doubt—he would find a better reason . . . a constant reason.

He could _not _keep going like he had been for the last twenty years.

"Young Master," Sebastian stated idly, "I am sure that the other Once-Human that exists at the moment went through the same resistance. I can understand the problem, of course. Eating on a regular basis is a necessity for a human, and to go from that to only dining when it is needed—"

"The resistance is not because of that at all," Ciel spat out vehemently. "There is simply a lot to wrap my head around, Sebastian. Humans are going to die . . . at some point, they will pass on, and there is no stopping that. To go from thinking that some day your life is going to end to suddenly realizing that you _cannot _die . . . it is hardly a fathomable concept. You are a Pureblood; from the day you were born you knew you could not die. There is a veritable difference."

"I had not thought of it that way," Sebastian mused.

"And why is your arm around me?"

A soft chuckle echoed through the empty street, followed by the reluctant removal of the older demon's arm.

Ciel cocked his head upwards as they walked, staring up at what little piece of sky he could make out. London had ruined the stars; the sky was full of smoke at all times now, and it grew thicker with each year. He could not see the stars nearly as well as he could back at the manor. "I hate London," he announced with a sigh. "It is ridiculously disgusting, don't you think, Sebastian?"

"It is only disgusting because the people make it so," Sebastian quietly agreed. "They say demons are vile, that they kill the humans and are worse than every sin in the world . . . but we have done nothing to cause the depreciation of the world. In fact, you could say that we make it better. In your case, Young Master, you remove the prostitutes and the drunkards from the streets; they destroy the world around you more than the rest. Humans are no better than the demons anymore. They have no morals."

"And demons do?"

"You have them, do you not? You will not eat the soul of a person who has done nothing to deserve death. You are refined despite your true self. All demons have morals; we are not as heartless as the humans make us out to be. But the humans . . . the humans have changed." Sebastian's face twisted into a look of mild pain. "It is becoming impossible to Contract with them, because their standards have dropped. No one ever calls for us anymore."

He looked back to the street in front of them, and he couldn't help but to begin to despise the being he used to be after hearing that. Ciel's own Contract had been made in an attempt to save what was rest of his life, to extend it just a bit longer. He had never stopped to consider why anyone else would Contract with a demon. Likely, the reasons would be ridiculously petty. Insulting to the demons. But in hunger, the demons would probably stoop that low.

The world really was sick.

"Sebastian . . . will we ever leave London?"

"I hardly believe living in England for all of eternity would please either of us. I am sure we shall traverse the world at some point in the near future."

"I should like to see India," Ciel mused. "The stories I have heard from Agni and Prince Soma have always intrigued me. And Japan as well . . ."

"Perhaps after we have dealt with the Viscount we will go."

". . . When we go, I do not want to come back."

"Young Master?"

Cobalt eyes trailed down to watch his feet move against the rough cobblestone street. "London has too many bad memories. Every time I see an alley I think of Madame Red . . . every time I see a manor I think of that Trancy brat . . . nothing gives me anything I can smile about other than my own servants, and they will be gone before long."

"In other worse, you would like to entirely start over."

"More or less."

The butler tilted his head up to stare at the sky as well for a moment, mouth pursed into a thoughtful frown. "That seems like the best thing to do, Young Master."

"You think so?" Ciel allowed a small smile to cross over his face. "Everyone here . . . I suppose if there is any part of London that does not bring bad memories, it lies with them. Still . . . I would rather not stay here until they all . . . pass on . . . Seeing them get older while I stay like this feels wrong."

"You have been thinking a lot while I have been gone."

"You have been gone for awhile." He pursed his lips, steps lagging as they turned into a smaller street. "What were you doing that kept you for so long? I have not once heard of what your home world is like, but if you were fighting then it cannot be pleasant."

"I had not thought you wanted to know," Sebastian chuckled. "You seem so averse to my kind it seemed as though you simply did not care."

"I care about what kept my butler away for over a month," he huffed. "And . . . I am sure I should not have to say this, but . . . I did miss you. Sincerely."

"The Young Master is already getting sentimental, then. Very well . . . what would you like to know about my visit to my home?"

They stopped walking, settling down on the side of the road to keep watch on a bar down a ways. "What were you fighting about? And why did you need to be there?" Ciel gingerly took a seat on a bench, eyes locked firmly on the building they were watching. "You never said a thing. Just that there was a situation."

"I shall do my best to explain. What do the humans say that hell is like?"

"There is merely the mention that there are nine circles of hell, and each is more powerful than the last. Are you going to stand there or will you sit down? We may as well make ourselves as nondescript as possible. We are already killing more than necessary tonight."

There was a soft movement as the butler moved to take a place on the bench next to him . . . and Ciel struggled to hide a faint blush as he felt their sides brush against each other. Sebastian, of course, seemed unaffected by the closeness and continued to speak. "The humans come up with the most complicated theories, honestly. There is no such thing. There are four corners: one for each of the different types of demons. And then in the center is what you would call the capital of Hell . . . this is where our ruler Satan resides. The fourth demon type—yours—was neutral in this particular squabble, but . . . many of the demons have begun to believe that Satan is ill-fit to rule us."

"Fighting over a ruler that has been on the throne for as long as you have existed?" Ciel scoffed, eyes jerked up sideways to glance at Sebastian. "That really does sound just like something the humans would do."

"Ah, but the humans do it for no reason whatsoever. The demons have a reason. You see, Satan seems to have been neglecting his duties; the demons have been rampaging all over earth, killing humans left and right without a purpose, and our ruler is doing nothing to stop it. The sides are split, of course: some of our kind, mostly the fallen angels, believe that things should remain the same way they have been. But the Purebloods, who are ultimately more powerful than the fallen, believe that we need order. The Half Bloods do not care either way as long as something is settled; they are simply tired of the fighting."

"And you?"

"I am on the Pureblood's side, of course, but . . . I was also one of Satan's personal escorts for a time, and I do know that he is a very busy demon. To be precise, I am undecided, but I would like to see a new ruler that can do a better job at ruling his kingdom."

"It doesn't make sense," Ciel sighed then, reluctantly returning his gaze to the bar. "When we visited the Undertaker you said that the fallen angels were the least powerful, but weren't they the ones who directly came from heaven? They used to be God's servants, right? Since they were the first demons, they should be the most powerful."

"Young Master, why did the angels fall in the first place?"

"Because of Satan. He wanted to take over, I suppose, and he gathered followers. But they could not defeat Him . . . am I correct?"

"That is the general idea." Sebastian shifted beside him, and when Ciel chanced one more look at him, the demon had his burgundy eyes locked firmly on the Earl's face. His expression was as serious as ever, and Ciel realized that this was very much the first lesson as a demon . . . learning his own heritage. Everything about his kind . . . it was all a mystery to him, but Sebastian would reveal it to him bit by bit. "They fell due to a temptation. Satan offered up a poisoned apple, and they accepted it willingly. They are demons because of their own weaknesses, and they have kept those weaknesses with them throughout those year. Each time an angel falls, it is because they themselves cause it. That is why they are the weakest. Any demon that is born from them knows nothing of these weaknesses. A demon's strength is not judged by their powers, but rather the strength of their hearts."

"Then . . . why are the Once-Humans the most powerful? I do not feel strong in the least . . . even if I do feel better than I did before."

"They are the most powerful because they _know _their weaknesses, and they know how to overcome them. The only thing, Young Master . . . is that you have to overcome them on your own. I cannot help you with this. But . . . I will say that I rather miss the person you were while you were a human. You would not let any disabilities stop you."

"And now I do," he sighed reluctantly. "I should have been looking for Elizabeth all this time, not . . . not sulking because I thought you were not going to come back. There is no telling how bad off she is now. And the blame can only be put on me."

"You are correct, Young Master." Sebastian bent down to the side, and soft lips brushed against Ciel's cheek for a fleeting moment before the butler straightened up again, the picture of innocence. "But now is your chance to correct your mistake."

"I will not let Elizabeth die. This is one thing I will succeed at, even if something happens to me in the process." He sucked in a deep breath, feeling his determination strengthen for the first time in years. "I absolutely must _not _fail."

Any response Sebastian might have given never made it past his lips as the bar door opened and a couple stumbled out, giggling drunkenly and wobbling off towards a house where they would likely indulge in sexual acts that they would not remember in the morning. It was a perfect meal: one for him and one for Sebastian, and no one would think twice about the bodies. They were so drunk they would likely not make a noise as they died.

Now all he had to do was kill one of them.

Sebastian rose to his feet and extended a hand to help Ciel up. As he did he said quickly, "Let your demon side out, Young Master. Their shock at seeing you are not a human will cause them to freeze, and that is your chance to kill them. A swift cut to the neck should do it efficiently." A small knife was pressed into his hand. "You get the woman, and I shall dispose of the male. Then we will eat and find our way back to the carriage."

Sebastian was leaving no room for hesitation, and Ciel appreciated that very much. If there was any leeway, any _whatsoever,_ he had no doubt that he would want to back out again. The way things were now, Sebastian was already moving, and he needed to before their two targets sensed that something was wrong. He gripped the knife more tightly in his hand and rushed forward after his butler.

What he hated, more than anything else, was _allowing_ his true form to come out. In this case he knew he had no choice, and he let it come without thinking about it, but . . . to him it had always felt wrong. Like he was wearing a skin that wasn't supposed to be his. And it was so _awkward_.

The woman caught sight of him just as Sebastian had wrapped an arm around the man's neck. She opened her mouth, letting out a soft squeak, before yanking her head back around to run . . .

But as a demon, Ciel was quicker.

If there was one thing he had caught onto immediately after he had changed, it was the speed a demon could move at. It was unnatural, and at first, completely disorienting . . . but now, Ciel rather liked it, using it as an advantage once in awhile. He used this ability now, rushing forward and in front of her in one smooth move, keeping his eyes cool and calm while he inwardly hid the fear building up. He did not let that fear take over, however, and before the woman could make another sound he had jerked the knife up, slicing it cleanly through her jugular and killing her instantly.

Still yet there was no hesitation; they were in the middle of the street, where anyone could walk out and find them, and the blood was a sure indication that something had gone wrong. Quickly Ciel grabbed the woman's body before she could bleed out on the cobblestone and then followed Sebastian into a narrow, abandoned street.

No words were passed between the two for the time being; Ciel was intent on getting the entire thing over with before he could think about what he was doing, and Sebastian seemed too hungry to care in the first place. The boy demon leaned close to the woman's dying heat, grabbing a hold of his meal swiftly and surely. Unlike the first time he had gotten his first taste of a human soul, everything he did was exact. He knew how to do everything now, and somehow that seemed to make everything easier. He was swallowing the soul without even thinking about how he was doing it . . . it was so _easy_.

The taste of this particular soul was nothing special, and especially not compared to what he had eaten earlier . . . but for the first time in weeks, his hunger was satisfied, and he allowed his form to return to normal with a sharp sigh of relief. He would be good for awhile now, he thought, since he had eaten twice as much as normal.

Tiredly he leaned back against the wall of a crumbling old building, averting his eyes from the woman he had just killed. Already he could feel the guilt creeping up inside of him, and he could not understand why at all; it wasn't like he had never killed before. Whether indirectly as an order to Sebastian or at the receiving end of his pistol, killing was nothing new to him. But . . . killing a stranger . . . somehow it seemed different. He did not know who this person was, nor what their goals in life had been. It did not matter anymore; they were dead.

But then, the world would not stop its time from passing just because two people had just been killed. Things would go on. These two would be mourned, perhaps, but only for a time. They would eventually be forgotten for the most part. In fact, it did not affect him in the least.

Oddly enough, thoughts like those were the ones that made him feel better.

He shook his head slightly, intent on forgetting about the incident altogether, and allowed his eyes to trail over to the opening of the alley they were in. From where he was standing he could see the lights of the bar, and he could hear the loud, rambunctious noises coming from inside. He wrinkled his nose; he never could understand why the commoners loved those places so much. Other than the bar, all he could see were the dark lanterns that lined the street, the benches lined against boarded up shops, and the flash of—

"Sebastian!" he hissed urgently, eyes jerking back to look at the butler for just a second before returning his gaze to the main street.

Somewhere beside him the elder demon straightened up, coming to stand next to Ciel, his body showing no evidence of what they had just done. "Young Master?" the butler questioned curiously.

"Someone was watching us," he growled lowly. He'd seen it, reflected in the moonlight: the flash of a person's glasses, shining only minutely before hiding in the shadows again. "They may still be."

It was subtle, but it was there: the way Sebastian's stance changed, becoming the slightest bit more stiff and his body leaning back and over Ciel. If someone _had _seen them, then the outcome was inevitable: they had to die. But there was no telling how much trickery or speed that could take, and the person could very well be violent. In the state he was in, Ciel could not do much to protect himself; Sebastian was prepared to be his guard. "Are you certain?" the butler asked quietly.

"There is no way someone could _not _have been watching us," he responded, eyes jerking back again. "What do we do?"

"We will have to come out sometime."

"Slowly?"

"They might have not realized we saw them," the butler replied evenly. "We should exit the alley as though we have no idea of their presence."

Ciel nodded, and gradually he made his way out of the alley, checking his clothing at the same time to ensure that he had gotten no gore on his person. Any mess there might have been he could not see, however, and he deemed himself appropriate enough to be seen in the presence of others. Sebastian was in his proper place behind him . . . but he could tell, from the corner of his eye, that the elder demon was prepared to fight if necessary.

Even now, he was getting protected.

Now was not the time to be worrying about something like that, however, so he turned his attention back to the street in front of him. It was empty . . . void of all life other than themselves. He frowned, turning back to face Sebastian in frustration. "I _know _I saw . . ."

"Young Master," the butler announced urgently. "There was a demon here."

"A demon? But . . ." No, he could smell it now, in the air: the lingering scent of one of their own kind. Whoever it was that he had seen just a moment ago . . . they clearly weren't human. And chances were, they were probably still around, watching them . . . were they on the Viscount's side? Was it a lone demon, without any ties to the human world, aiming to take them out because of how he came to be one of them? There were so many possibilities . . . but all of them ended up worse than the one before. Whenever demons were involved, he felt sure that nothing good would come of it.

Sebastian's hand on his arm jolted him from his nervous thoughts; he looked up at the butler just before his head was jerked in the forward direction. There, at the end of the street . . . two shadowy figures were scaling a middle-class house, clearly trying to get away before they were noticed. They could have been strangers . . . Ciel would prefer it if they had been. But just as the shorter one reached the top, for just a moment, the moon shone its light down on a head of blonde hair . . .

"Alois?" he hissed in horror.

"Too far away to tell," Sebastian responded, his mouth lowered into a frown. "Hannah Annafellows took Alois Trancy's soul in the end, Young Master, and he certainly had no physical body to return to once Claude Faustus had killed him. I highly doubt that demon is Alois."

"Alois was never a demon anyway," he muttered, still staring at the spot where the two figures had disappeared. "You killed Claude as well, or so you said. I was sure I had seen a pair of glasses flash a moment ago."

"Claude Faustus died by my hands, Young Master. There is no possible way he could be alive."

"So those two are just lookalikes?" he demanded in frustration.

"Just because one has blond hair and the other wears glasses, it does not mean it was them." Sebastian frowned, and the hand on Ciel's shoulder pushed forward just the slightest bit. "Assuming things beforehand is a dangerous pastime; you should not partake in it. Now, my Lord, we need to return to the carriage. We have left the children on their own, and even if they are part demon, the fact that there are others of our kind prowling London's streets does not bode well with me. Lady Elizabeth would be devastated if we rescued her and she found her children had been murdered."

Ciel obeyed automatically, though his eyes were still locked on that area where he had last seen those two. There was something about them—despite Sebastian's reproof—that reminded him so much of his old enemies. Perhaps it was the clear height difference, or the exact shade of that blond hair . . . something about it just screamed Alois and Claude. But if they were dead already . . . it wasn't possible, of course. There was no way it could be possible.

Gradually he let his eyes jerk back down to his feet as they walked back out of the side street and into the main road. Was it . . . was he so intent on his past life that he would even look to his enemies for the memories of what it was like to be human? He would embrace the life he had now, even if he did not want to . . . but he knew part of him still wanted to be what he used to be. The Trancys were links back to that old life. They were the ones that had caused his life to turn into this, of course, but at least he was still human while they were alive.

And anyway, if it _was _them . . . what the hell did he think he was going to do? Give them hugs for still being around? Curse them eternally for ruining what could have been a perfectly tragic end to his life? No, chances were, he would just ignore them . . . they had been fighting for his soul, and now that they had lost that . . . even if they still existed, they could care less about him. He would be a demon until the end of existence now, and there was nothing anyone could do about it . . .

Unless, of course, the demon sword that had been used to end Claude's life was found again . . .

And Ciel refused to go out in such a way. If he had to live this life, he was going to do it fully; he was not going to back out of anything. If he were to die at the end of such a blade, it would be with him fighting for his life as much as he could. He would fight to keep this life, even if he may not want it . . .

And he would, eternally, fight for Sebastian's life as well.

Despite there being more of them, the Childs' kids were already waiting by the carriage when they returned. To Ciel's relief, Niam looked content, and when the toddler grabbed onto the hem of his shirt, obviously still not willing to completely let go of the Earl, he seemed completely at ease in his body again. He skimmed his eyes over the three, noting that their clothes had no signs of what they had just been doing either. Not a blood stain in sight.

"You were successful?" he asked, just to be polite.

"We were lucky," Charlotte explained docilely. "A group of three emerged from a prostitution house down the street. We were able to take down all three without a problem, and all of us are sated for the time being."

"We should get back, then," he announced, turning to climb into the carriage. "Before the bodies are found, of course . . . and Sebastian and I spotted a pair of demons just moments ago. We should clear the area in case we are in danger."

"Young Master," Sebastian announced formally, offering his hand to help the former Earl into the carriage. "I will drive you home with all haste. Do feel free to nap if you feel the need; I will awaken you if anything goes amiss."

A sharp nod was the butler's only response before Ciel was seated comfortably, Niam beside him with his face pressed into the boy demon's side. Charlotte and Isaiah seated themselves quietly as well, and the cabin fell into silence as they started moving. Ciel could swear . . . _swear _that he had seen the back of Alois's head . . . even if Sebastian had tried to prove him otherwise, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that his rival had been the one standing there . . . and they had been watching. Watching as he and Sebastian devoured their meals like animals . . .

For some reason, it disgusted him.

"Ciel?" Isaiah spoke up tentatively.

Reluctantly he shook all thoughts of Alois from his mind and raised his head, staring at the middle child expectantly. "Yes?"

"What . . . what are we going to do now? Sebastian . . . Sebastian will help us, won't he? I don't want to sit around any longer . . ."

"Sitting around and doing nothing was my fault entirely . . . I apologize profusely for that." Ciel let out a light sigh, looking down at where his hands settled limply in his lap. "I should have realized what I was doing before Sebastian returned. And now . . . now we need to take action before the situation gets any worse." He raised his head, eyes focusing on each of the children before stating firmly, "We explained the situation to the other servants, but only in passing. We will need to let them know the severity of the situation . . . other than the fact that we are all demons, of course, but enough for them to know that we need to have this problem solved as soon as possible. We will talk to them in the morning . . . and they can put their heads together to help us decide where to go from there."

"What if they cannot help us?" Charlotte demanded.

Ciel smirked at the eldest of Lizzy's children. "The other tenants at the Phantomhive manor may seem like they are bumbling idiots . . . but in reality, sometimes I believe they are smarter than the rest of us. If anyone can come up with a way to help, it is undoubtedly them."

"And if not?"

He pursed his lips, sinking back down into the seat with a tired expression on his face.

"If they cannot figure anything out . . . then chances are, we will not be able to do anything . . . and we will have to deal with the consequences of our failure."

* * *

**GOD. ANOTHER CHAPTER THAT TOOK TOO LONG.**

**I am so sorry . . . I've been having personal problems pop up all over the place, and I've just now been able to sit down and get some serious writing done. It's a little short this time around, but I hope it will satisfy you nonetheless . . . and in the next chapter, we will finally be getting to some action. **

**Just keep in mind, though . . . I will not be starting a new chapter until after the end of August, because I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo at the moment . . . and falling horribly behind. I need to catch up, and hopefully get ahead . . . and if I pull off what I did last November, I might even be writing again before the end of August~ **

**Again, thanks so much for sticking with my slow ass self guys~ I really appreciate each and every review and reader I get for this :3 **

**Thanks for reading~! **

**~Shadow**


End file.
